Frankie's Girl
by wolfdream
Summary: AU-S2: The year of the BPD headquarter shooting was full of many ups & downs for Dr. Isles & the Rizzoli family-from heartache, to heartfelt moments; family & often endless work; terrorization by Hoyt-but what doesn't kill you makes you stronger...right?
1. Part 1: Aftermath

DISCLAIMER: I do not own this show, the books, or these characters. I only borrow them.

**Chapter 1: Autopsy**

Dr. Maura Isles knew she was too close to the case and should have had one of the other medical examiners do the autopsy, but the Rizzoli family wanted the best and she wanted to give them that. She had already failed to save the life laying prone in front of her and it was the least she could do to make sure the dead was processed quickly to ensure all the paperwork could be tied up and no disturbance of the body would be needed down the line.

She started the external examination like normal, but it was far from normal. There were no abnormalities of the head to note on the forms; however there were many differences that her brain cataloged. Without blood flowing through the body the lips took on a blue-hue, but she remembered a time just a week ago when the lips were suffused with blood after a breath-taking kiss. The lips forming into a coy smile before the couple moved into her bedroom. Those lips would never be able to whisper reassuring words after a tough case. Her brain flashed the thought that it was more the lack of air to breath out to vibrate the vocal cords that would prevent those reassuring words from being spoken, but for once she didn't care about the technicality of the situation. She glanced quickly to the closed eyes and knew that she would never see the sparkle in those eyes when she got too verbose, or see the love that those eyes could portray due to the movement of the muscles around the eyes and mouth. She noted the lackluster hair rather then the shiny brown locks that she loved to card her fingers through. One last time she used her fingers to massage the scalp, but this time feeling for any bumps or scraps to place on the form. Finding nothing she moved her examination down the body, glad to move away from seeing the lifeless face pointing up at her.

Next, Dr. Isles decided to move onto the extremities. She noticed some slight bruising on the right arm and noted the location on the autopsy forms. Not one to make assumptions, Maura would note down anything she found and let the detectives take it from there; however she mused that Jane probably would have pointed out it was from falling on that arm after being shot. While that thought was probably correct, Maura just wanted to make sure that every possibility was left open. Well that and she also had a fear of being wrong, so it was easier just to give all possible scenarios and let others make the final deciding leap.

She picked up the right hand to feel for any protrusions or unnatural bone movement. There was again nothing to note on the forms, but she picked up on the personal differences. The hand was cold without the warm blood continually cycling through the body. She remembered those warm hands that seemed to ignite her body and soul, or the callused fingers from the odd plumbing job, to shooting a gun, or playing sports which would gently stroke her face after mentioning that Maura was their world before leaning in with a kiss to seal the words. Dr. Isles placed the hand back in the prone position and walked away while telling herself that she needed to finish checking the lower extremities, but knowing more it was the fact that she was so close to just clutching the hand and never letting go as she cried for her loss.

The legs were quickly examined and noted to be clear of any injuries, and so the torso was the next step as there was a great deal of external injuries that could be seen in the chest and abdomen area. First the location, size, and bruising around where the bullet impacted was drawn on the worksheets in front of her. She next drew the location of the surgical sites and noted the start of healing in skin around the sutures. The medical facts and the black and white outline of the human body helped Maura separate her feelings from the truth of the situation. However her memory, which had always been her strong suit, occasionally would throw a past emotionally charged thought into the forefront. As she finished jotting down the location and size of the hole on the left side her thoughts flashed back. _Dr. Isles had never before been afraid of blood, but she was used to blood pooled around cold bodies rather then gushing out of a warm one from the hole in the chest wall and bubbling out of the mouth. She watched as the wound was created and saw the blood that started to flow as a result. For the first time ever, Maura wished her brain didn't function as it did because in a split second she mentally calculated how long the person had to survive with the speed the blood was leaving the body to the amount of blood in the body. She even came up with a shorter time to account for the blood that was probably pooling in the body due to various internal injuries. _Maura shook herself out of her memories and was surprised to see no blood covering her gloved hand. She pushed her personal thoughts back down as she put the finishing touches on the external examination paperwork.

After the brief break, Dr. Isles picked up a scalpel from the instrument tray and positioned herself in order to start the normal Y-incision. Taking a deep breath she makes sure to avoid looking at the face as she starts the cut. With the skin and muscle pulled away, she is quickly able to see the cracked ribs that were caused by the impact of a bullet and some additional surgical wounds that tried desperately to patch the person back together. Maura noted the lower left ribs that were noticeably injured. But she decided to wait until the chest was further opened in order to more accurately note what was surgical damage and what was the initial injury. The thought of getting someone else to cut and retract the ribs fluttered briefly in her mind but she didn't want to let go for even this bit. They had joked once that she hated giving up control of a situation, but it was even more then that. It was the last few moments she had alone with them. She could talk freely in her morgue, always could as the dead would never tell her thoughts and feelings to anyone else. She just wished that this once she might get a response back. She poured her anger at the situation into the force needed to wield the heavy bolt cutter, "Damn it, Rizzoli, why did you have to die and end up on my table." She had heard other cops and detectives use the name Rizzoli, but she never really liked using it. She would either use their given name or some other term of endearment, but the harshness of the surname seemed to fit her mood of late. She always knew there was a good chance she would outlive the other due to the high risk job and often being in the line of fire, but she never thought that the end would have come so soon. She berated herself for that wishful ideal. She worked with death all the time and knew that it often struck quickly and before people naturally should have passed away. She should have know better and grasped at living for all it was worth while she had the chance.

With the chest cavity opened up, Dr. Isles started with the heart. She could see some dead tissue on the outside wall, and as she cut the heart away to weigh she noticed a blood clot and so the determination of death was closer to being made. She would have to look at the legs and lungs to learn where the clotting started to learn if the issue was from a leg embolism from not moving after surgery or was from the initial gun shot damage. Regardless of what the paper would state at the end, she knew it was due to that horribly tragic day only 5 day ago. She needed to make sure the proof of that was solid so she and the Rizzoli family could get some closure by nailing Marino's ass to the wall and anybody else he would snitch on after he recovered from his gunshot wounds.

After writing about the blood clot on the forms, she walked the heart reverently over to the scale. She noted the weight down as in the normal range and she pondered that for a moment. Her lover's sense of romanticism must have rubbed off on her slightly as for a brief moment she wondered why the heart wasn't abnormally large due to all the love and affection that was showered on her. She knew that love was just hormones and chemical receptors, but she remembered a cheesy card she was given that showed a stick figure handing over a badly drawn non-anatomical heart stating 'I give my heart to you.' The feelings she had tried to bury all day were hitting her full force.

Glancing at the open body and seeing the main wounds remaining that needed to be cataloged, she knew she needed to have another M.E. finish the work. She knew she wouldn't be objective when trying to write about the wounds she tried to heal but failed, and she didn't want to mare the paperwork with tear stains as she could feel them forming. Luckily her two best M.E.s, who she personally oversaw their training, were not in the field yet looking at other dead bodies. She handed the remaining work over to them and once Dr. Isles saws that the body was being respected and the forms were being taken care of precisely, she went down the hall to her secluded office, shut the door, and finally let all the emotional build-up from this horrible week flow out of her.

After a couple hours of staring blankly at various autopsy reports in front of her, she was told that the forms were completed so she could look them over to make sure their wasn't any I or T that she felt still needed crossed or dotted, the Y-incision was being closed, and so all that was left was signing the forms and releasing the body to the family. Thanking the doctor in front of her, Maura took the file and walked back down the corridor and into the morgue. Trying not to lock the image of the cold faced stare into her memory as that was not what she knew and loved, she looked down to see the now close Y-incision which seemed to bombard her with the questions her lover couldn't ask: "Why did this have to happen?", "Why couldn't you have given an answer when the question was asked?" and she fingered the ring on the chain around her neck—the ring which would only be a promise ring as she couldn't find the strength and the courage to say yes when asked. She wished the brain still worked to process the quiet, "I'm so sorry." She pulled the sheet up and after a soft glance covered the face. She knew she would see it only once more, staring up from a gilded wooden box.

* * *

Staring numbly at the wall, the signed autopsy report beside her, Maura's thoughts whirled quickly from the past, present, and the future she would now never be able to have. A voice tried to pierce her thoughts and grab her attention- a voice sounding like Jane but she knew that couldn't be. However when her eyes focused in front of her she noticed her best friend sitting in a wheelchair in front of her, and Detective Frost hovering by the door.

Jane noticed the questioning look at first herself and then the wheelchair and to fill the silence stated, "It was the only way the doctors would let me leave briefly..." She paused and took a deep breath before getting to the real topic at hand. "Is he ready to be released," she asked as she glanced at the sheet-covered body. She struggled to stand up. Both Frost and Maura rushed to her and each grabbed an arm to help with the upward motion and then to support her as she took the slow and painful steps over to the metal table. She pulled back the sheet enough to see the face of her baby brother, the one who wanted to be just like her and so followed her shadow into the Boston PD. She wanted to shout at him that to follow her he would have to be alive, but wondered if maybe he didn't follow her subconsciously as she felt dead inside. Maura's voice lightly punctured the numbness.

"Yes, he's ready to be release," from her morgue, from the land of the living, from her heart... her words meant so much but she realized with this last glance that he would never be released from her heart.

The ends of the Y-incision that were visible threw out another question, 'Why don't you tell the family?' Maura glanced at a grieving Jane, and knew that the rest of her family was also in a state of shock and grief. Thinking it would be unfair to burden them with this new information, she vowed to keep the relationship to herself. So only she and a dead man would know that she was once 'Frankie's girl.'

* * *

AN: I hope as readers you give this story a shot, even that you now know it's not a Jane/Maura romance...but neither is it only Maura/Frankie. They are just a small backdrop for this story that is mainly about Jane and Maura as friends, the Rizzoli family in it's entirety and how they handle, or don't handle the lose of a family member, and then case heavy around chapter 20. That is the main place we see the dynamic duo...at work, and a few moments here and there relaxing at home.

I know the pairing of Jane and Maura for the characters can be confusing, but the books are labeled 'A Rizzoli and Isles Novel' because those are the two main characters dealt with, even when all the others make an appearance. Story is labeled tragedy/friendship for a reason.

Really hope you give the story a shot...but if not, hope you find some that you really enjoy :) Have fun reading.


	2. Chapter 2

DISCLAIMER: I do not own this show, the books, or these characters. I only borrow them.

**Chapter 2**

For once in her life Detective Rizzoli hated that she had decided to be a cop. Without that decision at the tender age of 12, she would not be stuck in the Boston Police Department Headquarters with who knew how many gunmen trolling the hallways and offices looking for who knew what. Frankie would not have followed in his sister's shadow to become a cop and so would not be laying on the morgue table with wounds that might keep him there as they couldn't get out of the building to get help. She felt so incompetent: as a cop because she couldn't risk shooting her way out of the building, as a sister for getting Frankie into this mess in a round-about-way, and as a human for not knowing more then the basics of first-aid to even try to really help out. She worked homicide for Christ's sake... not many live bodies to work on.

However, Jane knew that her friend and doctor more then twice made up for any lack of medical know-how on her part. She gazed at Dr. Isles and hoped for a miracle, and the fear for her brother shown through in a odd display of emotion for Detective Rizzoli. The hope was dashed when she saw the worried look on Maura's face; the fear for her brother was raised a few degrees at the same time, so much so that Jane mused it was the first time she did not jump at the dreaded word when she heard her friend state, "I'm a pathologist. I am not a surgeon." Her heightened fear for her brother seemed to smother the ever-present fear of Hoyt, at least for a few moments.

Seeing a medical reference book nearby, and needing to do something to help Frankie rather then just standing and shouting for Maura to save him, or for him to hold on, Jane nearly tore through the pages literally in her rush to find some answers. She almost wished she wouldn't have when she read the severity of the situation. The fact that her brother was on death's door was written there in black and white.

* * *

Maura recalled telling Jane once about having a nightmare of not studying for a major test, but upon waking it was easy to shake off the fear because she knew that she would never NOT study knowing there was an upcoming test. In fact she usually started at least a week ahead to make sure that there was not one question that the professors could twist in order to try and stump her. The real nightmare was the few times when preparing for other tests and presentations that one class reading slipped by until too late. She would hear the dreaded words pop-quiz and know that there was no time to study and no way to wake up. And this situation glaring her in the face now was the worse pop-quiz she had ever had to face in her entire life. She wished for the time to go back and take an emergency medical rotation, or to be able to open her eyes to a bright new day with Frankie's arms surrounding her rather then clutching at his abdomen in pain. But now, as then, she could only breath deeply and hope that the knowledge she already had would be enough to survive the challenge.

One thing Dr. Isles loved about being a Medical Examiner was that it was never a life or death situation, unless the crime was so heinous that the death penalty could be the final punishment. But that decision was not up to her, and the bodies on her table were already dead and cold... until now. Before there was time to double check her medical books to make sure that her ideas were correct in their formulation, or to get the opinion of other colleagues and specialists if there was something in the autopsy findings that she had never seen before. All the fears from school about having the wrong answer flooded her. She knew she could make matters worse. She had even seen bodies on her table where a good citizen had caused more injury to a person trying to save their life with CPR...and this was much more critical and medically precise then that basic life-saving technique that could be learned during a weekend training session at any local fire station. "Jane, I could make it worse."

It was ironic when Jane grabbed the nearest medical encyclopedia and almost tore the pages in her rush to get to 'tension pneumothorax' and did the last minute test preparations for the doctor. Her reading the info about using a needle to decompress the chest was not new. The information was cataloged in the recesses of Dr. Isles's mind. It was more the body recall she was trying to think through - the differences between living and dead bodies. As so often was the case, the dead would start to decompose or be in rigor before they ended up on the autopsy table; therefore the amount of force needed to push in a needle to collect blood or to press on the scalpel when cutting on the dead was very different then on a live body. The procedure Jane mentioned, technically known as a needle thoracostomy, was very exacting. The amount of force on the needle would need to be just enough to release the trapped air, and not so far as to puncture to far. Jane didn't know what she was asking for. She wanted a miracle, but then so did Maura.

If she had a free hand she might have crossed her fingers, even though she didn't believe in fate or good luck, but both were poised on the 14 gauge needle as she slowly pushed the three inches of thin metal into Frankie's chest between the second intercostal space on the mid-clavicular line. She felt the needle push through layers of skin, then through the pectoralis major and the external and internal intercostal muscles, and finally felt a "pop" as the needle entered the pleural cavity.

The sound of the air being released through the needle was one of the best sounds Maura had ever heard. It sounded better than what others might classify as a heavenly choir, if she believed in such a thing. That wonderful sound and the brief sense of relief was quickly dashed as she noticed blood clotting the needle in Frankie's chest and heard the tell-tale gurgling sounds of someone trying to breathe while being drowned by liquid...in this case his life-sustaining blood.

Jane heard herself pleading for life for the second time in her life: before in the basement of a house to a madman for her own life, and now in the basement morgue for her friend to save her brother's life. "Please don't let him die, Maura, please."

Frankie glanced at his sister to focus against not being able to get a good breath and the upcoming pain, hoping that he could ease the anguish he heard in his sister's pleading voice. But it was even more then that. He had always looked up to his older sister. It hurt less glancing to her knowing she always seemed the strong one even during situations that would emotionally cripple others. The few glances he shot to his girl broke his heart and seemed to punch him in the gut even more then the bullets he took to the vest did. He always could see past the walls she used in the modification of her facial expression or the cold nature she seemed to give off which helped her earn the nickname "The Queen of the Dead." He could see the slight nuance of pain and fear that she struggled to hide even from herself. Hating that he wounded Maura in this way, he preferred to once again literally look up to his sister from the table he was laying on.

Maura also stared mainly at Jane. It was easier to look to her frazzled friend over the man dying on her "dead-person table." Her thoughts briefly remembered happier times with Frankie that had left her breathless and with all thoughts thrown to the wind, and she became angry at the situation...at Frankie... for putting her in that same emotionally charged place. Knowing she needed to deal with the situation as a doctor and not a lover, and being used to coping with tough situations by hiding her emotions from both her peers and herself, Maura pushed down those confusing emotions and thought of the situation from the scientific standpoint which always made sense.

Dr. Isles had never before been afraid of blood, but she was used to blood pooled around cold bodies rather than gushing out of a warm ones from the hole in the chest wall and bubbling out of the mouth. She tried to be the detached doctor as she used the scalpel to cut in the patient's side and then inserted the tubing to drain out the collected blood, but the personal, emotional side wouldn't let her miss the tensing of the body and then the screams of pain that she was causing to her friend...to her heart. For the first time ever, Maura wished her brain didn't function as it did because in a split second she mentally calculated how long Frankie Rizzoli had to survive with the speed the blood was leaving his body to the amount of blood in the body. She even came up with a shorter time to account for the blood that was probably pooling in the rest of the body due to various internal injuries that she couldn't see without the major diagnostic equipment which were down the hall, but, with the shooters in the building, they might as well have been miles away. Maura hoped that Angela and Frank Rizzoli would not need to be informed today that their son was shot and killed.

* * *

It was great news and also a horrible mess that Detectives Vince Korsak and Barry Frost came back to the Boston Police Department Headquarters and radioed for backup. For those trapped inside the building it was wonderful to learn that those on the outside finally knew about the situation and could try and work on taking back the building and getting help for the two injured officers. But the fiasco started with the radio call in for back-up. All cops knew that many in the general public had police scanners, but that fact did not seem as pressing as just wanting to call in the cavalry... the carrion eaters would come out looking for the fresh kill of a good news story. So not only did the police back-up arrive at the building but so did all the major media providers, and a few minor ones too. The police presence also caused the infiltrators to step up their search and the shooters on the roof to send down a metal downpour of bullets with the black storm cloud settling over the recently arrived police and vehicles.

A 20-something, petite, blond reporter drowned on in the same monotone voice, with only a slight upturn of the mouth to show the seriousness of the situation without the mouth turning into a frown to prevent wrinkles from showing on television screens of those morbidly curious watchers in various living rooms all over Boston."...for WHDH Channel 7 News. We are coming to you live from the Headquarters of the Boston Police Department, where it seems that the building has being overrun by a group of madmen. We can only wonder how this situation was able to come about as you would think that there would be enough police offices in their own building to keep something like this from happening. If the police can't even protect their own house and officers, how are we supposed to trust them with protecting the citizens and neighborhoods of Boston.?" And with those words the damage to the police force was raised from serious to critical.

It was so not a good day for the Boston PD. Later in the evening, the news would tell about the earlier shooting of an undercover detective in the narcotics unit which pulled so many of the police force away from headquarters. Any other time the public would understand and support the police as they searched for an enemy that were not deterred to confront the protectors of the city. People could understand the idea of 'looking out for one of your own,' but only while it did not put themselves in a perceived harm's way. That seed of doubt would be planted even deeper when the public learned that one of the shooters in this horrible scenario was a Boston detective.

There would be a long recovery time for all involved: from the wife and children of Detective Clark as they mourned his death, to the family and fiance of Officer Jones who was shot and killed in the main lobby of the Boston PD headquarters, searching for anyone to mourn the girl who tried to be a witness to a deadly crime and paid the price for it, to the Rizzoli family that by the end of the day two of their children were critically injured. Even the building was injured with bullet wounds and the blood smearing the wall looking like a twisted type of tears, and the police department that needed to regain the trust of the community that they serve.

The same female reporter continued her live story. "Going to show a shot from the cameraman in the rear of the building. It can be seen in the video that the SWAT team is finishing suiting up, getting ready to enter the building and try to bring a swift end to the take over of the police headquarters."

The media frenzy was great as the live horror story was playing out. The cameras zoomed-in to showed the bullet riddled police cruisers, the shooters on the roof being taken down with a well-aimed bullet, SWAT infiltrating the building, and then to a hostage-taker using a female as a human shield.

* * *

The usual quietness of the morgue was shattered as a smoke grenade was thrown into the large room. It exploded, releasing the condensed chemicals throughout the room. The door was forcefully opened as men in protective gear and carrying heavy-duty firearms poured into the room with as much efficiency and effectiveness as the gas pouring out of the casing in the center of the room.

As SWAT rushed into the room, Maura finally gazed fully on Frankie's face. She wasn't sure if her vision was blurred from the smoke filling the room or from tears that she felt trying to fall from her eyes as the hope of getting him help and the worry for Jane set in. She wanted to say the words 'I love you,' but she still had issues with the truth behind those words as despite knowing the meaning of the word from the dictionary she had always struggled with the emotional meaning behind the words. She hoped that her eyes portrayed her feelings, as she could read the love for her and the fear for his sister in Frankie's eyes. She heard him crook out a painful, "I love you," and before she could think to much about the words, she finally told him just as breathlessly and passionately as he did, "I love you, too."

All she could say about her next moments was that yes...she, the doctor whose brain always seemed to jump from one though to another, and who measured all of her actions knowing that as a public figure they were all viewed and judged...did not think before she acted, or more accurately, reacted. She wanted to be able to deliver some good news to Frankie after the fiasco that he has suffered. She wanted to ease her own mind on the safety of her best-friend. She caressed Frankie's cheek and leaned down to place a kiss on his forehead as not wanting to impede his breathing anymore then it already was. Then before she could think about the stupidity of her actions, she left Frankie to the incoming swarm of men and the emergency medical technicians who would be soon to follow and rushed out of the room to follow the trail that Marino had moments before dragged Jane.

SWAT entered the morgue and first and foremost looked to see if there were anymore hostiles that might harm those in the room, members of the incoming team, or even themselves. Usually the people rescued were grateful to be able to be still and let the team take over the tense situation that they had been trapped in, so they were not expecting the female to bolt out of the room nor would any of the men have assumed that she could have run as fast as she did in the heels that she was wearing. So with all the confusion, smoke, and dumb luck, Maura was able to slip out of their area of protection and run after the hostage taker and her friend.

Jane knew the regulations for dealing with a hostage taker, and so did Detective Marino. He knew to use her as a shield to cover his own body and to keep the police back. Jane knew that slower was the best policy, as the negotiators would try to defuse the situation. Jane also knew that sometimes rules and regulations needed to be tossed out of the window, and Frankie didn't have time for the slow and calming negotiation tactics. She watched as her friends and co-workers started to pull back seeing the gun pressed harshly into her temple. She felt Marino dragging her with an odd gait that wasn't just caused by him trying to hold her close, and remembered the thigh wound he had. The idea to end the situation quickly flashed through her head, and while she knew it was risky she knew that was what she did as a cop everyday to people she didn't even know. While earlier she regretted her choice to become a police office, she now was grateful as it gave her the ability to think quickly and rationally in life threatening situations.

Feeling the gun pull away slightly from her head as Bobby told the cops to stay back, she knew her time to move was now. "Shoot him! Just shoot him!" Rizzoli shouted. She knew that unless a sniper could get a shot that it wasn't likely to happen with how he was holding her as a shield, but her words made him turn his attention to the other cops even more to make sure that their fingers were not about to pull a trigger. Jane tried to egg on the cops to shoot even more as she let her anger build. It reached peak point when she heard Bobby say, "Your brother's probably already dead."

She saw red, and for the first time of the day it wasn't from blood that was splattered throughout parts of the Boston PD headquarters, but from anger. That anger helped fuel her voice as she shouted back, "NO." The anger helped fuel her movements as she tried to rip the gun from Marino's hands. She grabbed at his hands, and pulled him in the direction of his injured leg hoping the added weight on the limb would cause him to stumble enough so she could get the upper hand. While she had taken down perps before using similar moves, their forward momentum as they ran toward her helped. Without that momentum helping her motions she was only able to slightly knock him off balance and angle the gun so it was not pointed at her head. She struggled with all her might to get possession of the gun, or to fight her way out of the strong grip on her waist. She was about to succeed as she felt his hands tighten on the tigger, and heard the loud bang of the gun. She knew she did not get the gun moved far enough away when she felt the pain explode in her side. _Shit,_ Jane thought as she felt herself falling and mused, _if this doesn't kill me, Ma will. _She closed her eyes against the pain as she saw fellow officers move in to grab Detective Marino, glad to know that at least in a round about way she opened the way up for help to get to her brother.

Maura Isles rushed out the main doors to the Boston police headquarters in time to see Jane try to wrestle the gun away from a cop-turned-bad. She heard a gunshot ring out and saw her friend fall to the ground. Not thinking about her own safety, Maura ran over, knelt on the hard cement, and used her ungloved hands to apply pressure on the wounds in Jane's side. Once again, Maura found herself trying to save a Rizzoli cop, she did not want to see them end up on her autopsy table in the prime of their life.

It seemed like forever that Maura felt the beat of blood pushing against her hands to spill out of the body in it's bid for freedom, but in fact it was only moments until the EMTs rushed in to push her away and to take over Jane's care. She watch as her friend was quickly loaded into an ambulance, and with sirens blaring and lights flashing was rushed away to the nearest medical center. Detachment settled in as she seemed to watch from the sidelines as another set of EMTs rushed in to take care of the wounded, handcuffed hostage taker. She noticed all the blood coating her hands and staining the sidewalk. She felt arms go around her shoulders and a voice ask if she was alright, but she was not able to answer. Finally her eyes settled on the new vans and cameras lining the police barricade trying to get a better view of the macabre situation. Maura hoped that Angela and Frank Rizzoli would not watch the nightly news to see their daughter being shot and killed.


	3. Chapter 3

DISCLAIMER: I do not own this show, the books, or these characters. I only borrow them.

**Chapter 3**

Maura Isles stood stunned and shocked, not knowing what to do as her friend was whisked away by ambulance to the nearest trauma center. She could hear the cops around her talking. She heard the Police Chief shouting out orders. The gruff voice of Vince Korsak verbally opposing a few such as sending a near rookie to inform the Rizzoli's about their children. "Sir, as Detective Rizzoli's partner, Frost should be the one to inform her parents. They know him." He thought as Jane's partner, Frost should be the one to deliver the heart-breaking news. He kept unspoken the other thought, that Frost wouldn't want to be seen as a bad partner by losing his lunch over blood and guts spilled, some of which were Jane's. His thoughts were pushed aside as the Chief wanted his detectives on the case not doing the jobs the rookies could.

She prayed to all the world-wide gods that her mind could recall in that brief moment, not really because she logically believed in them, but because it was the only thing she felt she could do for the two Rizzoli siblings. Then she thought of how logical science and medicine was over that...she could do what she always did...make sure all the facts were collected precisely as she noticed all the evidence on her dress and hands, remembered the blood and body in the morgue, and knew she had evidence of the facts of the day in her head that she could relay to the police. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and walked back into the building with renewed hope to help by giving Detective Korsak her statement of the day's events.

Internal affairs, the media, and the general public would be clamoring for answers.. They always did when cops fired their weapons, and man did they fire, one cop even at his fellow officers. So the investigation of the day's events needed to be precise and exacting...Maura could do that well. Her friends might not have been able to give their statements, and might never be, but Maura wanted the officials and anyone else who might look at the details of the case to know what a good job Detective Rizzoli and Officer Rizzoli did during this crisis.

SWAT had moments before clearing the building of any additional infiltrators, but to help with the investigation and knowing where everyone was the elevators were shut down and cops were posted at the stairwell entrances to make sure that only those cleared to get through could. One shooting death of a Boston cop sent the masses scrambling to try and piece together what happened, now with more dead and injured in their own house and learning one of their fellow officers might have been the ringleader made all the officers now profoundly aware of their duty. At the entrance to the first floor stairwell, that hyper vigilance almost got the officer on duty decked. Korsak went to opened the door and the young man nearly squeaked out, "I need to see proper identification."

It was procedure that on any call the detectives and medical examiners would need to show their ID. Even if they were known. It was necessary to keep out pushy news reporters, or loved ones that might end up being the culprit. The police had already been lax on procedure today by leaving headquarters so empty; they did not want to be caught snoozing on the job again. The problem came in the form of an enraged Detective Korsak as he had just seen his former partner get shot, and now just wanted to do anything he could to help make sure that she was cleared of any wrong doing the brass might think she did. It also stung to be reminded that their place of work was now roped off by yellow police tape as it was the scene of so much violence. He wanted to say "here's my ID," and punch the cop. He definitely wouldn't be forgotten by that officer, but he also just wanted to carry on with what he could do here. He dug into his coat pocket and pulled out the gold shield to show the officer. The kid took little more then a cursory look before he turned to Maura. She held her still bloodied hands up to show she didn't have any ID with her as it was still in the morgue, in her purse, until she would have needed it at an off-site case. Before the kid could bar her passage Korsak pushed through with her yelling back, "Just going down to interview a witness." Maura knew that's what she was but hearing him state it out right slammed the reality home even harder.

The door clanged shut behind them and the silence between the two was suffocating so Maura tuned in to the other sounds in the stairwell. Above her she could hear clicking of a camera, heard a masculine voice talking to someone else about the blood smears on the wall. The only positive in this whole situation, she mused, was that the bodies would not have far to travel to get down to the morgue. She knew her assistant, Yoshima, and the other Medical Examiners in the office were probably already either in their cars or still getting a phone call to come in. There would be many bodies to process and she would probably be taken off all of the cases as she was a bit too close to the situation. If anything would need to go to trial they would rip her apart if she was both a witness to the shootings and also a witness to the deaths as an ME. Today she was stripped of her degree and expert status of witness and replaced as a victim. She loathed that, but she would be as much of an 'expert' witness as she could be in that new role.

They continued down the stairs and down the hall to the morgue. She remembered walking down the hall earlier. She looked at the circular clock hanging on the wall and realized that not much time had past since she last entered the double doors. She was starting to get the bigger picture of the cops' need to reclaim their haven, to take back and restore the normal peace to headquarters. She could understand it because walking into the autopsy room she wanted to do the very same thing. She wanted very much to grab the pressurized water sprayer to clean off the blood, Frankie's blood, marring the metal table in the room.

She also wanted to take back her position as an ME and was tempted to go over and perform the necessary tasks of declaring that the body lying on the floor was dead. But she knew he was, and she didn't need a reading from the body to give her time of death as she noticed the time when she followed Jane and Marino out of the room, so again she was reminded she was too close to the situation. Another reminder came because for once she wanted to remove a dead body from her previously safe haven. Never before had see felt anything less then professional for a corpse.

While fear was one of those pesky emotions warring in her brain, oddly humor was trying to peak out. Her detached mental ramblings saw the crumpled body lying near the autopsy table and she noted how it seemed like the man was trying for one last attempt to live by rolling off her table. She tried not to laugh hysterically as the day started to catch up with her. She knew she was tired and holding on only by a thread. She had always thought the dead should be given as much respect and dignity that she could muster as she stripped them of everything in her thorough search for cause of death: from their clothes, to any vices such as alcohol or drug use, to external and internal scars they might have never wanted their loved ones to know about. She got on most all of the cops at least once, and even a few of her medical interns, to leave the humor they used to distance themselves from the horrors they saw at the doors to the morgue.

But she needed to let the crime scene unit do their part of this. Korsak quietly asked one of the techs to come over and get any usable evidence from Maura that they could so she could clean off her hands at least before he took her statement. She stood still as Mike took her picture from various angles to note all the blood on her hands and dress. She thought of Jane joking that she always looked ready to walk a runway as a model. This was not the type of pictures either of them expected her to be posing for. He took a sample of the substance on her hands before letting her go over to the large metal sink to finally clean up. They all knew it was Jane's blood, but they were not going to let any stone go unturned or any piece of evidence not be logged. Maura mused that for once Jane was getting her wish, Dr. Isles did not need to see the test results to know the stains on her dress and hands were blood.

It was the least they could do...it was all they could do. The cops would bury the brass and the public in facts and tests and forms, but they knew that even that might not be enough to quell the fear and complaints that the public might raise.

Maura turned the water to near scalding and fiercely scrubbed at her hands for a few minutes with the harsh antibacterial soap they used in the morgue. She noticed that the soap and water wasn't doing the trick in all the nail cracks and crevices so she hurried across the room almost frantically to grab up a large bottle of hydrogen peroxide. With her hands shaking, she poured the bottle over first one hand and then the other and watched as the bubbles formed, and her thoughts flickered back to a calmer and happier time.

* * *

-2 weeks prior to shooting-

Maura was relaxing at home. One of those rare moments she was able to grab for herself. She sipped at the glass of red wine she had precariously perched on the edge of her large garden tub between sips. She leaned back enjoying the rose scented bubble bath with her eyes closed to shut out the gruesome images of the mutilated corpses she was brought in to help with today. She listened as she heard the jiggle of keys being dropped on her dresser. She heard the slight squeak of her bathroom door being opened and the rustle of clothes as a person slipped into the room. She smelled a hint of cologne and she opened her eyes to smile up at Frankie Rizzoli as he lowered himself and sat even more precariously on the edge of the tub than her wine glass did.

"I never did understand why you need such a large tub," he knew something was coming when he saw the smile widen and the glint on humor that sparkled in her brown eyes.

"It's so I can do this."

He had a feeling he knew what was coming. He probably should have prevented her from being able to pull him in as he was still dressed in his full police uniform. He could have planted his feet firmly on the floor knowing that he could over power her efforts from that odd angle, but it was rare to see Maura in a playful mood as she was always so held together. He thought the wine might have something to do with it. He wondered if she was up to one glass too many, but he stopped wondering or caring as he felt her warm lips close on his.

Neither seemed to care that water spilled over the edge as his weight displaced it. Nor that the wine glass was whisked away by the tub sized tsumani. They were too busy enjoying each other and an interesting bubble bath than to care as the red wine swirled together with the water drenching the floor.

* * *

She saw the red mixed in with the water swirling down the drain and wished she could have kept her mind reliving the distant past over the recent past that she needed to give a statement on. But instead of seeing wine and bubble baths she was now again seeing blood as it bubbled up and out of Frankie's mouth as he struggled to breath.

Angry at herself and the situation, Maura quickly glanced to notice that her hands were finally free of blood, before she tore across the room to grab a scrub suit before disappearing into the lady's room across the hall. A few minutes later a red-eyed, disheveled doctor came out of the restroom wearing the drab green outfit that did nothing for her figure, and carrying her soiled red and white dress she had so carefully chosen that morning and her golden high heels. She deposited the clothing into the waiting hand of another CSU tech than from before, she glanced into her usual domain but rather than walking back in she left the mass of investigators and arriving MEs to deal with the bodies and the collecting of evidence. She turned and walked barefoot back to her office.

Korsak noticed the exchange of clothes from his perch on Dr. Isles' normal chair in the morgue, and then quickly jumped up to hurry after the doctor as she wasn't coming back in like he expected. He noticed Frost's relieved expression to be getting away from the latest dead bodies from the building, but Korsak was proud at how well he seemed to be dealing with the carnage. He assumed it had something to do with Frost's fear and desire to help his partner giving him a new sense of purpose and strength. He assumed so at least, because he felt that same fear and desire. He mused that they now had something else in common other then just being partnered with Jane Rizzoli at one time or another...the fear that they might lose that partner. His usual cop's manner of deflecting the bad with humor came out as he thought that Jane had better get well, else he might be partnered with Frost... in mock horror he shuddered, or was that from the seriousness of the day?

As Maura walked to her office she thought on how odd it was to have changed into scrubs to get out of a messed up outfit, rather then the normal actions of putting on the garb to prevent the staining of her good clothes. But today had been totally off kilter so what was wrong with one more backwards action. Like leaving the the entire mob of investigators in her morgue as she left them alone, at least until she heard the labored breathing of Detective Korsak as he hurried to catch up with her.

Maura walked into her office and looked at the cheery decor. Her potted ficus plant in the corner and the framed prints of flowers had always been a way to bring life into her job and office that was full of death. However those same images today made her think about gaudy mylar balloons and vases of flowers kept in a hospital gift shop to try and help heal the mind and body of those laying in bed. Or worse, the pictures reminded her of huge floral arrangements at a funeral. She briefly thought about sitting behind her desk to avoid seeing the pictures and as a way to take back some of the power and authority that was stripped from her this harrowing day, but instead decided for comfort and sat stiffly at one end of a well worn couch with her bare feet tucked up under her.

Korsak swung around a sturdy chair placed across from Dr. Isles desk for when family or colleagues would come to talk about a case, and he plopped in the chair while starting the awkward conversation, "We can wait to get your statement til later if you want to get over to the hospital." He nodded toward Detective Frost who had quietly entered the office and closed the door behind him before he sat down on the other end of the couch. "Or we could question you there," Korsak continued knowing they all wanted to be at the hospital waiting on their friend and co-workers.

"No, recall is best as soon as possible as you well know in your job. But thanks for the offer." She tried to give a small smile. "Granted I might remember something of value later, but I might also forget something that would be pertinent to the investigation. Notes now might be able to help trigger something significant later if I forget." However she doubted that need. While fresh memories were clearer, she knew the memories of today would be firmly entrenched in her long-term memory in all it's gory images, shocking sounds, and the gut-clenching emotions that at times almost kept her from action. And she started the process of releasing all of those pieces of information as calmly as she could into the tiny tape recorder that Detective Frost had sometime placed on the coffee table in front of her.

Dr. Isles took a deep breath and tried to tackle this hurtle like she would when she was called in to be an expert witness in a trial. She tried to bury all emotions of the day and give the facts as she remembered them. "Other than just coming from the murder scene of a Boston detective, the day started out fairly normal. I came down to the morgue to see what new cases had arrived overnight. I was about to go get Mrs. Fredricks out of the freezer, but I wanted to check on Bass first...my tortoise," she added for the recorder's benefit.

"I leaned down to check on him. Before I rose I heard male voices, two different ones at least. There might have been more but that was all I heard before the gun fire. It sounded like they were trying to find something in the evidence lockers, but I can't be sure because I couldn't see them from where I was." Which was probably a good thing she finally realized as they couldn't see her either. They shot to kill anyone they saw. That was evident from the bodies that were littering the office building, and the injuries to Officer Rizzoli. Her breath sped up as the seriousness of the situation was finally able to take hold now that she was not fighting to survive and to keep another alive too.

Her desire to keep her recollection purely factual was hindered by the fact that it couldn't be as there were emotions and thoughts that played a part and they started to pour out before she could swallow them. "They didn't want any witnesses. Hence they came all this way to retrieve a camera." Her voice nearly cracked as the pitch changed as she realized how the day would have been changed, and she struggled to gasp for air and talk at the same time. "I wouldn't have been able to try and help Frankie...no one would have known that Marino was anything other than a brave heroic cop and so the Rizzoli's would for sure be burying two children..."

Before her thoughts could dredge up more horrific images, Korsak interjected to bring her back to focus on the present, "Doc...DOC!"

"Sorry," she rubbed her face with her now clean hand as it to scrub the images from her mind. "There have been studies about using beta-blockers to dull the emotional response when dealing with traumatic memories."

Korsak understood about four words of her little side note, but he nodded his head as usual as if interested and as if he understood. He knew and understood coping mechanisms well, and while the Doc had an odd one, he wasn't about to call her on it. "Do you need to take a break?"

She shook her head and gratefully accepted the bottle of water that Frost had retrieved for her while Korsak pulled her out of her thoughts. She went on in nearly moment-by- moment details: from the entrance of the three police officers into her domain, to the injuries and care that she provided to Frankie, to hoping she was stepping on the correct part of the radio, how some blood splatter on her clothes might be from the intruder laying on the floor of the morgue, and finally to Bobby dragging Rizzoli out of the room. She continued with the details of the shooting even though it had more witnesses then just her... like anyone who was watching the news.

"Good thinking on the radio...you would have made a hell of a cop," Korsak stated. It was high praise indeed coming from the gruff man, and on any other day she might have felt pleased. However she was back to feeling numb after ending her statement.

Frost and Korsak offered to then drive her to the hospital, but she knew she needed to change and get a quick shower first to make sure there was no evidence left on her that might worry the Rizzoli's even more then they probably already were. While she wanted to quickly get to the hospital to check on her friends, she knew that with their injuries it would still be awhile before anything would be known. She crossed to her office closet which contained anything she might need in an emergency for various locations or weather. She saw her long black wind breaker that was also water resistant in case it rained which was hell on the evidence that might be left on a body. An old winter jacket as she had known it to be a fairly warm sunny day once and after a long double shift in the morgue found the weather to be ghastly when she walked out of the building. Standing in the corner of the closet was a large black umbrella and even a walking stick in case the location of a dead body called for some hiking. She saw her line-up of spare shoes from another set of monotone heels if she was going to court, a pair of black flats with a good sole in case the ground might be slick, and even a pair of comfortable tennis shoes for those hiking excursions and when she found herself still standing over a body after a long tiring day. She reached in and grabbed the flats. She then grabbed the spare outfit: black slacks, and a red silk button up long sleeve shirt. She hesitated for a moment before grabbing the ivory button-up cardigan sweater she kept for when the coolness of the morgue overrode the heat her body generated from the hard work of cutting into bodies. She felt so cold today.

She left the two detectives sitting in her office as she hurried down the hall to a small locker room with showers. She scrubbed quickly and efficiently, letting the warmth and harsh spray from the shower head help warm her up and loosen the muscles that had been held taunt for too long as adrenaline had coursed through her to keep her ready for the fight-or-flight response she might have to quickly make. Stepping out she rushed toweling off and getting dressed so much so that her hair left a massive wet spot on the red silk shirt. She didn't mind the fogged mirrors as she was foregoing her usual make-up. She barely brushed her hair, just enough to make sure no major tangles were in it before she hurriedly threw it into a ponytail. She chuckled as she thought she was channeling her inner Jane.

Looking down at her outfit, she was glad for the comfortable sweater to not only clutch closed to keep her in a warm protective hug, but also because it hid much of the bold red of her shirt that was reminding her too much of blood at the moment.

* * *

Maura left the two men sitting in her office while she went to get a hurried shower. For awhile the two sat in silence, glancing around the room to see what they could learn about the medical examiner from her office space. But all too soon they needed to do something to help out somehow...anyhow. Korsak spoke up first, "So what do we do with the turtle?" as he knew the Doc would want to check in on her friend and she shouldn't have to worry about a sick pet too.

"Tortoise," Frost quickly said back, "...did I just say that?"

"Must be spending too much time in the morgue around the Doc," Korsak chortled. "Still doing that 'immersion' therapy crap?" He asked half-heartedly as he grabbed Dr. Isles cell phone that was sitting out on her desk. He started down the contact numbers hoping to find a vet or 'turtle-sitter' ...fine 'tortoise-sitter' his mind filled in as he rolled his eyes. He laughed when he got to Rizzoli. "Poor Jane, can't get any peace from the doc. She'd track her down through family members if she had too." He didn't bother to wonder why only Frankie's number would be in her contacts and not the parents too if it was only to track down his previous partner. But he was on a mission so he only glanced at Rs briefly as he hoped...yes, there it was labeled neatly under V for vet. Without even thinking of using another phone, he hit the send button and placed Maura's cell phone to his ear.

Korsak talked to the vet about having a sick 'tortoise' he sneered as he said the word. It was easy to set up about dropping the pet off as Maura had been in there before. He was about to end the call when he remembered another pet, "Do you mind watching a small mutt too?" Jo was going to need someone to feed and walk her for awhile as her owner was going to be laid up for awhile...least she better only be out for awhile and not out for good or he might have to find a way to bring her back so he could take her out himself for the grief. He heard the lady on the other end of the phone line start to say something about not being a boarder so he continued, "well you see there was a shooting..."

"The dog?" The lady sounded worried

"No, the owner..." before he could say more he was asked to hold.

The vet came back on a moment later and mentioned that they usually only boarded ill animals but she would make an exception while she was tending Bass. She knew Dr. Isles well, and knew she worked closely with the police. She had also earlier listened to the breaking news about a shooting on her radio as she was waiting for her next 'patient'. It was one small thing she could do for the police who not only protected her place of work, but also her neighborhood...at least not all the public was out for blood Korsak mused.

Before they hung up, Korsak was given the address for the vet, and also the number for a general animal sitter that she knew Maura had used in the past so they could work on getting something more long term set up. Korsak thanked her for the pets, their owners, and his own sanity in at least having one dilemma solved for the time being.

Not long after the odd phone call with the vet, Maura walked back into her office and grabbed her purse to signal to the guys it was time to head out to the hospital. Standing up next to the doctor, Frost mused on her shorter then normal height. He wondered if it was just from flat shoes as he was used to her augmented height from her usual heels, or if it was from the situation pressing down on her. Or a combination of both his mind threw out as he followed the mournful pair already walking to the stairwell.

* * *

The uniformed officers came into the Dirty Robber Bar and Grill and saw the tear stained face of Angela Rizzoli and the angry visage of her husband, Frank. They wondered briefly if the news had already reached them about their injured children, but learned that was not the case as the bar owner, Murray, told them the party was canceled since the guest of honor wasn't coming. They continued the torturous walk toward the couple... this was the worst part about being a cop, telling the families about injuries and death of their loved ones.

Angela looked up as the men approached and seeing the serious and mournful looks on their faces, she froze in horror. There were only two times that she could think of that officers would look that serious without having their guns drawn: when they were coming to ask about the whereabouts of a relative or when they were coming to mention someone was seriously injured. Sadly she had been through both those situations. The former for her eldest son's latest DUI as he ran after the accident but a good citizen wrote down the license plate numbers, and the latter when the police informed her of her daughter's injuries from a perverse serial killer. She hoped that her eldest son had already gotten into trouble during his brief time out of prison and so was being sent back in. She felt back about wishing for that, but at least then she would know that all of her children were safe and accounted for.

"Mr. Rizzoli, Mrs. Rizzoli," the much too young officer in Angela's opinion started. She watched him take off his hat and run his hand through his hair as he struggled to spit out the message he was sent to deliver. "There's been an accident..."

She knew. She knew just as all mothers seem to have an odd intuition about when their children aren't well. She knew that the accident he mentioned had nothing to do with a car accident that Tommy might have already gotten into after getting out of jail and partying. "Was it Frankie or Jane?" her voice crackled as she quietly forced out the words.

"Ma'am.."

"Was it Frankie or Janie?" Angela all but shrieked when he didn't answer her quick enough. She felt her husband come behind her and place his hands on her shoulders to both give support and to have something to hold onto as they realized that this nightmare was a waking one.

"There was a shooting at headquarters, ma'am...um...they were taken to the hospital." She didn't care where it happened. In her annoyance at hearing what had happened as she was waiting to hear who it happened to, she missed hearing him say 'they'.

"Officer Frank Rizzoli was shot but he was wearing his vest..." the officer continued.

Her heart lightened a bit as she heard Frankie was wearing his vest. Of course. All police officers took it seriously when one of their brothers in blue were injured. It would be okay then. A few bruises, maybe a cracked rib, and she'd drag him home to feed him all his favorites and wouldn't let him leave the couch as she reminded him about his father needing help in the 'Rizzoli and Sons' Plumbing Company'. She hated to guilt her children, but she wanted to keep them safe, so she would do whatever that took. She grabbed her purse and started toward the door so she could get to her injured son's bedside as soon as possible. As she was passing the bar she glanced at the television hanging on the wall, and came to a crashing halt as she noticed the image of the police headquarters in the background. It wasn't the location that drew her gaze, but the struggling image of her daughter. She heard her daughter scream 'NO!' Heard the loud shot ring out and watched as her bleeding baby girl crumpled to the ground. She didn't realize she was stuck in a similar scene as she yelled out "No!" as she started to crumpled to the ground in tears.

Frank Rizzoli and the young police officer each grabbed one of Angela's arm to keep her from falling all the way to the floor. They helped shuffle her out of the door, and finally into the passenger side of the car. Frank always wanted to find a way to make his wife be quiet, he joked with her often about it, but this was not the way he had envisioned. He reached around her to fasten her seatbelt and while he was leaning over her he brushed the tears off of her damp cheeks with his calloused thumb.

The policeman was still hovering nearby, not really knowing what to do with this newest situation in his role as a cop. "I'll give you an escort to the hospital." He seriously stated to the rising man.

When the police officer was in his cruiser and out of view, Frank reached up and swiped at his own tears that were threatening to fall. While his youngest children had to be strong protectors for the citizens of Boston, he just had to be a strong protector for his wife and children. He hoped he would be strong enough for what was in store. He stepped into the driver side of their vehicle, started the engine, and slowly pulled out of his parking space. He wondered if he would be able to use the discarded 'welcome home' banner for any of his children. As he followed the blue flashing lights to the hospital, he hoped that this was not a precursor to another, more final procession.


	4. Chapter 4

DISCLAIMER: I do not own this show, the books, or these characters. I only borrow them.

**Chapter 4**

Maura hated sitting still, almost more then she hated not knowing something...and right now she was sitting in a sterile waiting area near the surgical bays not knowing if her friend or her lover were going to survive the night. And in great times of boredom and stress her mind always seemed to jump to the most random topics- currently she was contemplating the various chairs in hospitals. It seemed to her that the seating in waiting areas improved as the seriousness of the situation increased: from the hard plastic chairs in the emergency room waiting area which made those who actually waited need to add back pain to their symptoms when they were finally seen, to the flexible fabric seats near the labs and diagnostic imaging suites, and finally upholstered chairs and even a couple love seats for family members to huddle together on in the surgical ICU waiting area. Dr. Isles thought it was almost like the chairs were the only thing to provide comfort for when the situation warranted because medical training teaches one to be empathetic but also detached from the harshness the future doctors would encounter. She glanced over at one of those couches and saw the worried parents of not one but two critical patients. She knew she should say something in order to try to alleviate their fears, but she knew she had the same ones.

Maura wasn't the only one who hated not knowing what was going on, Angela Rizzoli wanted answers. She wanted to know what happened to her children, and the nurses couldn't tell them anything while they were still in surgery. While she hoped that the doctors took their time, as she knew from the little she had been told that both would be in surgery for awhile, she knew she couldn't wait much longer to hear something. She looked across the room at the usually poised and well put together image of her daughter's best-friend; she noticed the now haggard and worried women. She knew the ME had been through her own hell today, but she was also the last one with her babies and she wanted...needed answers. Her whispered voice sounded too loud as it pierced the deafening silence, "What happened to my kids? Will they be okay?"

Maura hoped the fierce woman was asking Jane's partner about the day, but looking up she saw the questioning gaze focused solely on her. She didn't want to go through the day again. She didn't want to deal with the stress, fear, and heartache that had caused a hormonal war waging in her body for most of the day. But she knew her friends' parents needed answers, and she was the best one to have them. She took in a deep breath, buried the emotions down deep, and pictured herself sitting on a hard wooden seat as she gave her medical testimony in court. The seats were a bit more comfortable, but the jury she needed to give her account to seemed much more formidable.

Again Dr. Isles started the retelling of the day's events, at least the pertinent medical events as the Rizzolis and even the two detectives near her were searching for answers. "Frankie was wearing his vest, but the blunt force trauma of the high-impact bullet still did some damage. When he took off his bullet-proof vest, there was a lot of bruising visible. I checked the normal ABCs: Airway, Breathing, Circulation. He was having issues breathing, and I was able to deduce, as well as I could without being able to get to the proper medical diagnostic machines, that he was suffering from a tension pneumothorax." She looked up to see if they were following her story so far and saw the confused, dazed looks staring back at her. Assuming that the only confusing was in the last part, she clarified and went on, "air was trapped in the lung cavity. It can be fatal in moments without treatment." She glossed over the fact that she at least saved him enough to let him get to the hospital for further treatment—partly because it was not the right time to try for a pat on the back like she had longed for growing up, but also because she wasn't sure if that was going to be enough to pull him through, and then what did it matter how far he did make it if he didn't survive overall. She went on to tell about chances of recovery and the steps the doctors were more then likely performing in the operating room to get him stabilized and moved over to ICU.

She was so not good at talking to non-medical personnel, as many doctors were not. It was odd learning all the medical jargon in their many years of schooling and finally in their area of training. To then be told after all the memorization and advise to bury the emotions, that you needed to tone down the medical technicality of your reports so a layperson could understand it and to be able to empathize with them as you told the dummied-down medical version of the tragedy that their loved ones were facing. She still had to work with the living, to give them answers to why their loved ones often died suddenly. But that seemed easier as they wanted and needed the answers, and she didn't have to worry about informing them of the tragic end of death as that was the one known in the picture.

Korsak was listening to Maura tell all the gruesome details of the injuries to Officer Rizzoli again, and he realized he didn't want to...he couldn't listen to that same account for his previous partner as well. He was surprised to look over and note that Frost was still listening and had only turned slightly paler then normal rather then the green-around-the-gills he usually looked when he was about to head for the nearest restroom, or bush as was often the case at a crime scene. He stepped out to go get some coffee for the group. He was feeling chilled. He blamed it on the heavy air-conditioning that all hospitals and medical offices seem to have to try and prevent the growth of germs, or so he was told once when he asked why it was so cold in an office more so than the chills from his 103 degree fever would attest to. He also decided to make all the drinks very strong. Least they could have that type of strong drink in the hospital, even though he was thinking most could use a harder drink then that.

Maura had less time with Jane to try and stabilize her, but she had seen enough in various autopsies to know that any bullet wound could be fatal given the right circumstances. "I exited headquarters in time to hear the gun go off. I know the bullet was a through and through because I saw where Bobby was hit with the bullet. So based on the entrance wound that I could see before applying pressure, and the entrance wound on Marino, I know the bullet traveled upwards but I'm not sure what all was hit without medical imaging or exploratory surgery; it's only speculation." And everyone knew she hated guessing, even logically worked out guessing that Jane Rizzoli seemed so good at. "The bullet entered under her rib cage." Which was a good thing as she had seen too many bullet wounds go fatal as the impact of the harder bone changed the trajectory through the body. "From the angle upwards I know it was a penetrating thoracoabdominal gunshot wound. It would have pierced the liver and diaphragm before it entered her chest cavity. If the bullet stayed on the right side of the body then it would have penetrated the lung before it exited the body."

Maura guessed she waited too long to say the next part in her train of thoughts because she heard the choked up voice of Jane's father ask, "And if it didn't?"

She was not good at the comforting words she knew he wanted. She was good with facts and truths. She stood up hoping that pacing would help burn off some of the tension she felt building in her muscles. "It could have hit the inferior vena cava, the major vein to the heart." Odd when that was the better of the 'bad' scenarios. "Granted I didn't see the exit wound," as she rolled Jane onto her back to let the ground help apply pressure to the bigger exit wound as she only had two hands. But even if she had, that wouldn't tell for sure how the bullet traveled if it changed paths after hitting one of the ribs as it exited the body. She didn't realize she started pacing the small room even faster as she thought about the kinetic energy tearing through the body as the bullet did. Which was why exit wounds were always bigger than the bullet's entrance wound. "The bullet could have hit her heart or spinal cord if it veered left of the entrance wound." Even if it stayed right it wasn't a guarantee that there wasn't cardiac or vertebral damage because of the kinetic energy of the bullet factored in. Her mind was focusing in on the possibilities so much that she didn't see Frost come up to her side.

"Doc...," as the word didn't seem to grab the doctor's attention, Barry Frost reached out and touched her arm with a quiet "Maura" to help pull her back from her terrifying thoughts.

Feeling the slight touch, the sounds finally pierced the fog of thoughts and she looked first to him and then to the grief stricken faces of Jane and Frankie's parents. She was used to the freedom in the morgue; the dead couldn't hear. She could spout out ideas without worrying that she would terrify the loved ones as they realized how agonizing the injuries before death were. She didn't have to worry about having a cheery attitude to help give the patients a sense of well-being and security that they had no right feeling with how bad the situation really was, as with Frankie earlier in her morgue. Now hours later she realized how detrimental it could have been for his drive to hold on through the pain and the suffocating moments as she pretty much just blurted out that without real medical intervention he was as good as dead.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. For telling too much. For not helping enough. For not loving their son enough—oh god, love, finally the word crashed into her in with full clarity and she might not get the chance to be the one to start those three words. Somehow the added 'too' seemed to make it easier to say back, and she finally wanted to say them first. And the correct answer to the question he popped a few weeks ago. She stepped backwards until she felt the back of her knees hit the chair and she crumpled into it, staring at her hands which only hours ago were covered with her friends' blood.

Korsak walked in with steaming cups of strong bitter hospital coffee. He knew right away he was glad he left on the coffee run as Frost was now his normal green-around-the-gills color, and the Rizzolis' looked even more terrified than before.

Maura wished he might have been a few moments earlier to prevent her from opening her mouth and inserting her foot. She could have taken a drink of the scalding coffee to prevent herself from speaking those harsh but truthful words that she couldn't unsay. She took the cup offered to her and wrapped her hands around it trying to soak in the warmth.

Angela Rizzoli was many things: an opinionated Italian woman, a brash Bostonian, a great cook, and a loving yet overbearing wife; yet first and foremost she was a mother. She could see the pain in the younger woman's eyes and her drive to comfort couldn't help but be pushing to the forefront. She slowly rose and walked over to the slightly trembling woman, sat down beside her, and reached over to grasp the hand that was moving between the coffee cup and wiping the sweat from her palm on her pants. She could see that the women her daughter talked about so often, and her son from the occasional times they found themselves working together. She knew that Maura had already saved them once three months ago by figuring out the picture stuff her daughter tried to explain but she never understood,. "Thanks for being with them today." She knew she couldn't be in there helping heal her injured children, like this brave lady next to her did, but she knew she could try to give her a little bit of comfort like she gave to her kids. She knew her children would want that, and at least it gave her something else to do besides staring as a plain white wall as the time dragged on.

It was about 45 minutes more of tense silence before the surgeon came in to inform the group about Frankie's prognosis. The surgery went well to repair the internal chest damage from the blunt force trauma, but the next few days would be critical as they waited to see if he would wake up and breathe on his own. He mentioned that that a nurse would come in after he was situated to let the family see him briefly.

Maura knew she could have told the family about her relationship with Frankie as girlfriend and almost-fiance status. She knew they would let her back to check up on him but she really wanted Frankie to hear her answer from her lips before she voiced them to the world. She knew she could try to use her doctor status to also get in the room. Let the nurses know that she was just checking up on a patient, as she did provide treatment earlier. But she knew that would be like a slap to the face of the surgeons as if she questioned if they did their jobs adequately. So instead she took the news to heart that he was holding his own in the Surgical ICU unit until they thought he was stable enough to move into a room, and he could have other visitors. She was still envious though as she watched his parents converse with the nurse who came in the room before they followed her to see their son.

Angela and Frank Rizzoli dutifully followed the night nurse down the corridor to the curtained off space in the Surgical ICU that would be his home for the next day or so while they watched for any signs that would show if his condition was worsening. If not he would be moved into a room. Even with the warning, they were both frozen in their tracks as they caught the first glimpse of their son since the argument earlier at 'The Dirty Robber." He was attached to so many tubes that they had no clue what all were for. A machine off to his right was breathing for him, to take the pressure off his healing lung as it regulated the amount of air supplied or so they were told something of the sort.

Angela walked over to her youngest child, glad to still feel her husband's strong hand on her shoulder. She needed his strength at that moment or she felt she might have collapsed weeping to the ground. Tonight was supposed to be a celebration of having all of her kids safe at "home," at least in the same city if not under her roof. But tonight none of her kids were tucked in their beds at home. Instead two were fighting for their lives, and one was...well, one was somewhere else. She leaned over and gave her son a quick kiss to the forehead as it was the easiest place to reach that wasn't covered in tubes, tape, or bandages. She was glad his chest was covered up because she knew she wouldn't be able to bare seeing the bandages she knew would be there. She tried to pretend he was just sleeping, but the mechanical whooshing of the ventilators kept her grounded in reality. She wanted to say something to him about getting better but her throat was too clogged with a jumble of emotions.

Frank followed his wife into the curtained area with his son. He kept a hand on her shoulder to help hold him upright, knowing he needed to be strong for the both of them. He watched as his wife leaned down to kiss his son's forehead, and he felt tears start to stream down his checks as the reality of the day finally sunk in now that he was seeing one of his injured kids. Before either of them said anything to their son, he felt the presence of the nurse behind him. Their 15 minutes was up. His wife started to numbly follow the nurse back, and he slipped in to the place she had occupied before, leaned down and whispered, "You've got to get better. For your mom...for all of us. We love you, son." He wasn't the demonstrative type to his sons, but he too leaned down and kissed his son on the forehead before following the two women out of the ICU.

The two tear stained faced parents reentered the waiting area. The others wanted to know about Frankie but knew better to ask anything as the pair took up residence on the couch again and clung to one another as they wished to cling to their kids. And the silent waiting started once again for Jane.

Maura tried not to think about the day, but it was fresh in her mind. And with this new recollection of the facts she was reminded of something important. Bass. Now that caring for her friends was being taken care of by others, and her "job" of telling the cops and then the parents what had happened, she now remembered her tortoise. She worried because he was already ill, and then who knew what a smoke grenade would do to an animal. She felt bad as he had all but saved her life and she had forgotten him in the rush afterward. She didn't mean to break the silence, but she realized she did when shock and anger filled gazes turned her way after she said, "How could I have forgotten about Bass. I hope he's okay." Not the best thing to say when parents are in the same room worried about their children's lives. She was afraid the others might think she seemed more concerned over her pet than the people. But she knew the two lying in hospital beds would have understood her.

Angela was worried that her odd glance at the younger woman across from her put her on edge, but she was just shocked and amazed sometimes at what came out of the brilliant doctor's mouth. She didn't know that Bass was as much of a hero from the day's events as his owner was. So she wondered at how Maura's mind always seems to jump from topic to topic, even if logical to her and to maybe a few others in the world. But her Jane would understand, or at least fake it well.

Korsak spoke up, "I talked to your vet while you were cleaning up." He glanced to Jane's parents and hoped they didn't think about why the doctor needed to change earlier. "I told her Bass was ill and so would have someone drop him off. I also asked if she would watch Jo Friday as Jane wouldn't be able to. She agreed for while she's treating Bass, and then said you would know a pet sitter or whatever who could watch 'em both." He chuckled briefly from the only humorous part of this horrible day. "As we were leaving to come here, the brass turned the elevators back on as I guess they were too lazy to take the stairs. So I gave door boy Jane's keys and told him to go drive the two pets to your vet. I didn't get to punch him like I wanted, but he sure won't be forgetting me after today." He laughed again as he thought of the heart-broken expression on the kid's face when he knew he wasn't going to get to work the major case at headquarters as he was put on pet detail.

"Thanks, Korsak." Maura gave him a slight grin as it was all she could manage now that that fear was put to rest and the long emotional day was starting to catch up with her. Not knowing how much longer they would be waiting, she decided to try to get a little rest. She pulled together two of the chairs to face each other and curled up. Soon Korsak decided to do something similar by using another chair for a footrest.

However Frost tried not to laugh at the scene, 20 minutes later it was harder to resist from the two very different scenarios. Maura looked like she was curled up into a too small crib, hugging her knees to her chest in some odd version of comfort. Vince used the second chair for a footrest and was slowly sliding down as he fell deeper asleep. He thought breifly about going over and kicking Jane's old partner in the ass that was slipping off the chair, but it would be funnier to watch him literally crash and burn. That time came about sooner than just gravity would account for as Jane's surgeons came in. The noise startled Korsak and he slid the rest of the way out of the makeshift bed. The mood was too serious for anyone to laugh, but most had a glint of humor dancing in their eyes before they turned their quickly sobered glances to the newcomer.

Making sure they were all there for Jane Rizzoli, the surgeon started talking. Maura listened as he mentioned an emergency laparotomy to deal with the abdominal injuries. She tried not to react to his statement but she feared what it could mean for Jane's outcome as that was usually started if the patient was pulseless by the time they arrived at the hospital. As one team worked to repair the liver and diaphragm, another team of surgeons worked quickly to repair the right lung and the graze to the inferior vena cava. Just this once Maura wished she would have been wrong and the bullet could have traveled through without hitting any organs, but they were too compact inside the body for nothing to be hit. The surgeon mentioned that the right ribs 4 through 6 were broken on the posterior side as the energy from the bullet tore through her body, but luckily none of them were shattered as the bullet itself luckily passed between the 4th and 5th ribs. She heard him mention he was going to keep her in a medically induced coma for a couple days for some of the wounds to start healing and her body to get a break from the pain it would be in.

The parents were again led down the same hall, by the same nurse, to the same ICU area. This time they were led to a curtained off area a few beds down from their son. The same scene was carried out, and Angela might have thought she was in a time loop repeating the same moments, except for seeing the longer hair and the slightly softer angles in the face of her daughter. On the way back to the waiting room, Angela asked the nurse, "Is it okay for her friends to see her.?..I think they need to, and Janie would like the visitors."

The nurse agreed to 5 minutes each, and Maura let the two partners go first. She was oddly scared to think what she might find. Her friend was strong and courageous and she wasn't sure how she would feel looking on the same friend having a ventilator breathing for her and looking so pale.

Angela walked over and again squeezed Maura's hand knowing the fears as she felt them too. "She needs her friends." That was all that was said as Maura squeezed the hand back in thanks for the support until it was her turn to go back.

On the way to see Jane, Maura peaked through a few gaps in the curtained off areas until she got a quick glance at Frankie. He had more color than he did in her morgue and so her mood was lifted a little at finally being able to even glance at him. She continued walking even though she wanted to slip away and into his area, and a few more feet she found herself staring down at her friend. She didn't know what to say, so she started with the first thing that popped into her mind, "You don't have to worry about your dog. Jo and Bass are at my veterinarian's." She tried not to groan as it came out. She really wasn't good with talking to living people or dealing with highly emotional situations... and she really was awful when the two combined. She grasped her friend's hand, almost like Angela did with her moments ago, just being extra cautious about the IV tubes taped in place and the pulse ox monitor on her middle finger. "You better get well. I've never really had a friend like you. Most leave or I drive them away with my mannerisms. I can't lose you now." The room was quiet with only the punctuations of ventilators, heart monitors, and other monitoring devices, so she hoped her voice carried enough to be heard by her other true friend a few beds down. She couldn't deal with losing either as both seemed to have awakened parts of her she didn't know she possessed: a loving heart, a joy-filled laugh, and thoughts that focused on happy moments and not just on the dead. So not only would she lose them if something happened, but she would lose a part of herself that took 39 years to find.


	5. Chapter 5

DISCLAIMER: I do not own this show, the books, or these characters. I only borrow them.

**Chapter 5**

The next two days were touch and go, more for the visitors then the patients it seemed with the long days of waiting for words of improvement and for the patients to wake up. Within hours of learning that both Frankie and Jane Rizzoli should be okay as they were in ICU after surgery, Barry Frost and Vince Korsak wandered a few blocks away, back to headquarters at Schroeder Plaza. They both knew they could do more for their partner and her brother as cops then as the doorstop Frost felt he was becoming, or Korsak as the barista handing out cup after cup of coffee. That night and early into the next day Maura waited with the parents, both because she felt they could use some support but also for any chance to hear more on Jane and Frankie.

The day after the shooting, both patients were monitored and taken down to the diagnostic imaging suites. Seeing no blockages or bleeds in the various images that were run, and noting that the patients stats seemed to be holding better then the night before, both patients were finally placed in a room together. Out of ICU, the family was able to stay with the patients. But Maura was not family so all she could do was visit during the normal visiting hours. So 30 hours after the gunshot that started this whole torturous race, Maura found herself back in her own home wondering what to do until visiting hours the next day started. She called the vet and learned that Bass was doing better after needing some antibiotics for some reptilian cold. She might have cared more about the technical terms two days before, but now she was just numb and passing the time. She payed for the bill for the stay and the treatment until the next day, and then contacted a pet sitter she knew to pick up both Jo and Bass the next afternoon and to watch them until further notice.

Next Maura decided to check in with Frost and Korsak to hear how their day at work went and to give them any additional information they might not have been able to glean from the nurses station.

After a couple rings she heard a weary bark, "Frost."

"Hi, Barry. It's Dr. Isles."

"Hey, Doc. How are the patients?"

"They are stable. They were both moved into the same room tonight. Their mom is thrilled that she can camp out in the hospital chair and see both of her kids now."

She heard a slight chuckle even though no real humor was behind it, "Yea, I'll bet." The voice became much more serious, "By the way, guess who is just rooms down from Jane and her brother."

Maura could only think of one other person who was shot and maybe not fatally. "Shit." She didn't curse often as she felt there were always better words to say what you mean, but right now that seemed to be the best word her foggy brain could think up.

"Marino's still in critical condition. He has a guard on the door. I'm thinking more to protect him from other cops and probably from Angela if she learns he's there, than to make sure he doesn't miraculously heal and try to run out of the hospital."

Maura knew that the Boston Medical Center was the nearest level 1 trauma center to police headquarters, so it made sense that all of the wounded were taken there. She almost wished Frost would have kept that information to himself though. She would be at the hospital the following morning, and she knew she might be tempted to stop in and speed up his arrival at her place of work. She shook her head at that thought. She might hate the guy, but she was still a doctor and the words 'first do no harm' filtered into her brain and spoiled her images of revenge. After a steadying breath she asked, "So how is the clean up and work coming along back at headquarters?"

"The rookies still are jumping at shadows. Hell, most of us are. All of the bodies are down in your neck of the woods. Crime scene clean-up came in last night and so everything looks back to normal... but the feel is all wrong."

Maura could understand the last statement. So much felt wrong since yesterday. "Did Korsak file the statement I gave you both?"

"He transcribed it all early this morning. He finally left the office a couple hours ago as he looked like he was going to pass out at his desk. And yes, I made him call when he got home since he wouldn't let an officer drive him. Stubborn." He chuckled again, "but I think you need to be stubborn to ever be partnered with Rizzoli and not go nuts."

"You should probably go home and get some rest too," Maura stated as she didn't feel close enough with Barry to joke about which he was...stubborn or nuts.

"I was just about to leave when you rang and as I'd already be pushing it driving tired, I knew better then to try to add talking to the picture."

She was glad to hear that as she saw too many car accident victims in her morgue due to cell phone usage. "I'm sorry. I should let you go. Just keep me apprised of the investigation."

"Will do. And keep Korsak and I in the loop about Jane and her brother." As almost an afterthought she heard a mumbled, "Sleep well, doc."

She had a feeling no one would sleep well for awhile, but she replied, "you too," before she hung up.

All that seemed to be left to do before visiting hours began again tomorrow was sleep. She did _try_ to sleep as she knew her body and mind needed it after the horrible ordeal at headquarters the day before and then the hours of waiting for news. It was anything but restful. Every time she closed her eyes she saw the pain-filled, pale face of Frankie gazing up at her from the autopsy table. When she would toss and turn the images shifted and she heard the echoing gunshots as the men broke into the evidence lockers, but this time she wasn't lucky. She didn't bend down at the right moment to check on Bass and so one of the men saw her. She saw the gun turn on her and heard the sound of the bullet being fired and she shot up in bed. She scrubbed a hand over her face and eyes as if trying to wipe the image away. She knew she didn't want to close her eyes again, even though she felt sleep pull at her, so she wandered out into the kitchen to start the coffee machine.

Her mind flitted from one thought to another as she smelled the strong aroma start to fill the room. She thought about the patients lying in beds at the hospital, and how close she came to losing both of them. She hated being away from them as they were still in serious condition. She asked Angela Rizzoli to call her at any time if something changed. But the 15 minute drive from her house in Brookline to the hospital, assuming no traffic, could be too long. She knew the parents had an even longer drive if they would go home to Revere to get a night's sleep or to shower and change. She pondered the issue as she got up to grab a mug from the cupboard and poured the strong, steaming dark liquid into it. As she added the right amount of sugar and cream into her cup, an idea started to blossom. She grabbed her cell phone and called for information. Driving by the hospital she noted a Hampton Inn on Massachusetts Avenue. It would be perfect for both her and the Rizzolis. A place to sleep, shower, and get a hot meal, and still be within walking distance from the hospital.

With the number to the hotel in hand, she debated her decision for a few moments. She knew that Jane was always proud of her father's work ethic as a blue collar worker. She knew from Frankie that his family was a proud one and didn't like hand-outs when they could just struggle to make an honest living. She wondered how they would view her paying for a hotel room and extras like food. Nervously tapping her fingers on the counter top, she quelled her worries and dialed the number. Even if they didn't want to use the room, she knew she needed to be closer to those she cared about.

Forty minutes later, just after 1am, Maura Isles walked into the lobby of the hotel with a travel bag of easy to wear jeans and pant suits in case she needed to stop in to work. She knew she would miss the dresses and heels the next few days, but it was an easy price to pay for the nearness and quickness of getting over to the hospital. She checked in to the suite she purchased for a week, knowing that with the injuries to Jane and Frankie that they would probably both still be in the hospital for that long. Over the phone she requested for a fruit basket and some sandwiches and water to be supplied in the suite's fridge, and extra coffee fixings and travel cups to be placed in the kitchenette. She picked up the 2 keycards she asked to be made, one for her and one for the Rizzolis if they decided to use the room at all. She also asked for two parking passes as she paid for three guests. At least if they didn't want to use the room, they could use the parking and take the hotel's free shuttle to the hospital or just walk, rather than struggle to find a spot at the hospital and pay a large fee.

She opened the door to the room. The suite came with a king sized bed, and a sofa bed. She knew it was unlikely that the three would ever be in the room at the same time as the Rizzolis or Maura, or some combo thereof, would be at the hospital so it didn't bother her that it was all in one big area. She left the king sized bed alone for the couple if they ever deemed to use the room, and she headed to the turned down sofa bed that she had asked be prepared. And ironically, this new environment did not impede her ability to sleep as she had the curtains peaking open and could see out to the brightly lit hospital nearby.

At 8am the prearranged wake up call rang into the room. Maura got up and prepared for another long day of sitting in the hospital until she was kicked out again. She got a quick shower and pulled on a pair of designer jeans and a navy blue satin shirt as she loved the feel, and Frankie loved the color. She applied just enough make-up to not look too scary if Frankie would wake up and look at her. The circles under her eyes weren't as prominent as the night before but they still made her eyes look a bit sunken in without the make-up. She left her hair down today, slightly curling over her shoulders. A quick slip into her black flats and she was ready to walk out the door 30 minutes later.

On her way out of the hotel, she stopped and grabbed three free on-the-go breakfast bags and bottles of water to take breakfast over to those awake in the Rizzoli room of the hospital. When Maura got over to the hospital she was surprised to walk into the room and see only Angela Rizzoli sitting with her kids. She watched from the door for a moment. Watching the mother carefully holding on to her daughter's hand and looking for any signs of movement, even through her daughter was still in a medically induced coma. She guessed she wasn't as hidden from view as she thought when she heard a tired voice say, "It's nice being able to hold her hand this time. The last time I was in this situation her hands were too bandaged up. All I could see were the tips of her fingers." The weary face of Angela Rizzoli glanced toward the door as Maura finally walked over to join the older woman.

She wondered at this woman who had to put up with so much. Her oldest son's brush with the law. Jane's capture and injuries by Charles Hoyt, and now her two youngest children lying in the hospital yet again. "I don't know how you do it. Being a mother."

"It has its good points and bad. Just so happens to be in the bad moments currently," Angela gave a slight humorless smile. "Luckily there are more good times than bad. Just have to remember that at times like this."

Maura watched the mother brush an errant strand of hair off her daughter's forehead and felt a longing for her own mother. But both of her adopted parents were already long dead and she missed the random demonstrations of love and support that they so seldom showed to her. She sighed as she pulled the breakfast from her over sized purse. As they both started to eat, Maura tried to think of something to fill the heavy silence. "So, where is Frank? I was surprised I didn't see him here." She glanced to the third bag of breakfast that stood as proof.

Angela finished the bite she was on and placed the sandwich down on her daughter's tray table. "He was almost finished with a large job when we took off the day to celebrate Tommy coming home." She tried not to sound too bitter as she thought about the joy that two days ago was supposed to bring. "Frank's not taking any new jobs, but he needed to finish this one. Luckily a couple of his buddies heard about what happened and offered to help out so he can finish quicker and get back to us." She took a deep breath and look between her two children. "He hated leaving, but the doctor's say they might take Janie off the sleeping meds today so she might wake up tonight or tomorrow. He's rushing to try and finish today...or tomorrow at the latest."

Maura could just image the speed at which Frank Rizzoli might be rushing to finish this job. She remembered watching him with his children in the Dirty Robber when they were all helping with the plumbing job there. He was a wonderful father both from what she saw then, and from the stories that both of his younger children had told to her at various times.

The silence again blanketed the room as both of the ladies finished off their meal. Maura was glad to hear that Jane might be woken up soon. She had a feeling that had to do with the doctors' needing to figure out from a lucid, or at least semi-awake patient, if Jane was able to breath on her own as it was always better to learn as soon as possible if the patient needed to go back in to surgery to fix anything that might still need repairing. She glanced over at a sleeping Frankie though and pondered why he might still be asleep. She knew the body would often put itself into a healing sleep, but she knew he wasn't in a coma as he scored high enough on the Glasgow Coma Scale the day before. She watched as the doctors asked him to wiggle his fingers and as he responded to painful stimuli. She just wished he would respond to his parents and the doctors asking him to open his eyes. She wanted so desperately to talk to him.

Maura took up a chair that was slightly closer to Jane than her brother, and watched for much of the day as the two patients slept. Angela wandered back and forth between them. She got up and stepped closer to Frankie's bed as a nurse came in to change his bandages and record his stats on his chart...purely as a medical professional she tried to tell herself but knew the lie to those words as she grimaced seeing the dark yet healing bruises littering his stomach from where the bullet impacted his vest, and even the bruise on his chest that she caused as she forced the needle through his skin and muscles two days before. The cut she had made to insert the drainage tube was now blending in with the surgeons' incisions. She stayed at his side when the nurse finished with the brother and moved over to do a similar treatment on Jane. She thought it would give Jane privacy as the nurse bared her chest and abdomen to get at the two different incision sites the surgeons used to patch up her friend, but she reveled in this chance to hold Frankie's hand and gaze at his peaceful face as his mother was glancing at the nurse and asking various questions about when the doctors might let her daughter wake up, and why her son wasn't waking up yet.

Later Maura was back in her usual chair. She mused that is was sad that she already had a usual chair as she watched various cops and crime scene techs that the two had worked with before stop in to pay their respects. Frost and Korsak walked in the room together around 4pm.

Korsak walked over to chat quietly with Angela who was sitting next to Frankie at that current moment. He thought it was only fair that Frost talk to Jane first as he was her partner now.

Frost looked a bit nervous as he walked over to the bed containing his partner. As the middle child he was good at coming up with words to help pacify tense situations, but he didn't seem to know what to say to pierce this new challenge. "Hey, Jane." He took a steadying breath, his grip on the bed rails so tight his knuckles were turning white as if the death grip on the rail kept him from reaching in and shaking his partner in an attempt to wake her up. "You have to get up and at 'em soon. Korsak is driving me crazy. I'm not sure how you handled being his partner for so long, but lucky you as you got me after that."

He tried to sound cheery, but Maura couldn't help hearing that he sounded like he was seconds away from breaking out in full blown sobs. She thought about leaving the chair and stepping out of the room, but she knew that any movement would catch the eye of the talking detective. She tried to sink more into chair and out of view. She thought she must have done a better job of closing her ears and blending into the background than she thought as the next thing she noticed was a lumbering hulk pass by her as Frost and Korsak switched sides of the room.

Korsak started off as blustery as usual. "Jesus Jane, you have got to get out of this damn bed and back to the office. I don't know how you handle being partners with Frost, he's too...cheery...well when he's not puking his guts out at a crime scene." This statement brought one of the first real laughs in a lot time. "You so downgraded Janie when you asked to switch from yours truly. Oh. and by the way, no other detective will have you," he chortled as he could imagine the frightened looks on the faces of the other homicide detectives if they would be forced to partner with this brash cop. "So don't try to pull the same stunt you did after your last stint in a hospital. Neither Frost nor I will let you try and switch again. You're stuck with us."

Maura heard the wistful quality to Korsak with the last line. She knew that he still regretted losing his partner after the Surgeon case.

"Well we need to get back to the office. I think you're only still sleeping to get away from the mounds of paperwork over this whole fiasco." He leaned in to conspicuously whisper, "I don't blame you." He straightened back up and as he was just about to pass the chair Maura was huddled in, he turned to her and said, "Can I talk with you a minute outside?"

The look she saw on his face was a mask of composure. With this man that was never a good sign. She stiffly stood up from the chair and tried not to shuffle out of the room too much as her right leg had gone numb from pinching the sciatic nerve as she sat too long. They stopped just outside the door, and Frost came out soon after to join the duo.

"I just wanted to warn you, Doc." Korsak stated. "IA will probably be contacting you for their own interview sometime soon."

"Why would Internal Affairs need to speak with me?" She had a few ideas, all were making her tone toward the messenger a bit more hostile then she would have liked.

Frost, as the mediator interjected calmly, "It's mainly formality. Most everyone in Boston has seen the footage broadcasting the shooting. They always look over the case whenever a cop's gun is fired though. But you are the only witness that isn't lying in a hospital bed. They want to get a better idea of the actions the media cameras didn't pick up. But it's pretty evident from the tapes that Marino was rouge."

"God damn it, he is a dirty cop." Korsak nearly shouted. Even his toned down voice still earned him glares from the nearby nurse's station. "They want to make sure that Jane wasn't involved somehow. They asked us how she was as a partner, and if she might have been in with Marino. As some duo of bad cops and lovers, and she played the hostage to help them get away. And when that looked like it wouldn't happen, she tried to step in and play hero so she could get away from the incident scot free." His face was red with anger that he tried to hold back, not wanting to get banned from the hospital. "With Marino dead there would be no one left to implicate her. I hate IA! All they do is try to ruin the names of good cops, and we already have one blemish to our name with the asshole sleeping down the hall."

Maura had gone pale as Korsak had painted the ugly image of who IA was wondering if Jane was. She wondered if she was going to have another fight on her hands over this dreadful situation: first trying to fight to save Frankie's life, and now a fight to save Jane's reputation. She was so tired of all the bumps that this journey was dragging them through. "When do you think they will contact me?"

Frost could hear the new weariness in Maura's voice and hated that they had caused her even more concern. "They are checking all the stuff they can in the office and on the computer for now. The lieutenant actually was helpful for once. He told them you were out of the office for a few days and so to 'leave you the hell alone'. Granted knowing IA that means you might have a day or two before they try and contact you. But by then most will just be follow up. As a good cop, Jane's bank records should show next to nothing." Frost tried to chuckled to lighten the mood a bit, but it didn't seem to help.

Maura turned to look in the hospital room, she glanced at two of the biggest fighters of justice she knew, and they were being unjustly attacked when they couldn't fight back. Frost seemed to understand Maura's thoughts, or he just had a very similar idea as she got a comforting pat on the back and heard him say, "We'll just have to fight the battle for them since they can't. Get it all straightened out so they don't have to deal with recovery and IA at the same time."

Korsak tried to help with cheering the group up by adding, "Yea, IA isn't known to help as it usually impedes recovery...of anything."

"Oh big word, I'm impressed," Frost grabbed at the chance to change the serious topic into something a bit lighter.

"Shut it, BBK" Korsak retorted.

Forst hated that nickname. He was forever known as the Barf Bag Kid at the office thanks to Korsak. He tried not to think that it was thanks to his queasy stomach...nope it was all Korsak's fault. But he would put up with it as he noticed a very slight smile grace Dr. Isles' face. He was glad for that even if it was at his expense by thinking of all the times he'd lost his breakfast in her morgue sink. "Anyway, we just wanted to give you the heads up. Keep us in the loop about what goes on here. The whole office appreciates it."

"Thanks for the warning." And Maura shook her head as the two started off down the hall. She could still hear them bickering back and forth as the elevator doors closed them from view. Since she was already up, she decided to take a quick stroll to the cafeteria. She stepped back into the room long enough to grab her purse and to ask Angela if she wanted anything. Order and cell phone in hand she detoured slightly to step out into the sunlight and place a needed, yet worrisome call. She hoped he took her suggestion well.

The night before Maura and the two awake Rizzolis exchanged phone numbers to be able to check in about the patients. Now she was calling Frank Rizzoli for a different reason. She heard the phone ring a couple of times before she heard a recorded 'This is Frank Rizzoli. Please leave a message about the job and location and I'll get back to you.' She was slightly relieved to be able to leave a message. She heard the tell-tale beep and she quickly tried to fit her words into the allotted time. "Hi. This is Maura Isles. Your kids are fine...still asleep." She rushed to say as to not worry him needlessly. "I got a hotel room down the street from the hospital as I wanted to be closer to my friends. I was wondering if you would feel comfortable using the room...get some sleep, and shower and change. I know Angela doesn't want to go far either...anyway, I just thought I would throw out that option." She was relieved of dragging the oddly tense, one-sided conversation out by the phone hanging up on her. She breathed a deep breath of fresh air. Well at least the idea was out in the open now, and she turned and headed back into the chilly filtered hospital air to get the desired coffee for herself and Angela.

* * *

AN: Please review. I have lots of places I want to take this story, but currently lots of 'filler' chapters to set things up and not rush in to the major stuff too fast- and these chapters seem really hard to write without some words of encouragement or constructive critique. I thought of doing an extra long chapter here as I missed last week, but decided to let the readers decide about the length of the next one...will I get to Jane waking up or no :D as I have about the same length of this chapter leading up to it, it will be extra long if I write the wake up scene too. Thanks rutgers for the few reviews I do have... and my mom who I make beta this monster lol.


	6. Chapter 6

DISCLAIMER: I do not own this show, the books, or these characters. I only borrow them.

A/N: Thanks so much for the review...I doubled my counts :D.

**Chapter 6**

Maura was relieved when Frank Rizzoli came back to the hospital later that night and talked to her about getting the room key as he and his wife could both use a good night's sleep. His back was still aching after sitting in hard chairs the last couple nights, and then today after squeezing under sinks and around pipes. He had already checked with the night nurse Margaret to see if she wouldn't mind looking the other way and letting Maura spend the night in the hospital even though she wasn't family. He knew he would never be able to talk Angie into leaving the room and sleeping a block away if no one was watching after the kids. Luckily Margaret agreed to add Maura on the list of approved after hours visitors as she knew the patients would be in the hospital for awhile, and already the parents looked drained.

Angela wearily debated with her husband about leaving her kids' bedsides, but a huge yawn and the grumbling of her stomach only added fuel to Frank's well spoken, and Maura assumed, well rehearsed speech that she would call them should anything happen, and that they could both use a healing rest like their children were currently getting.

So finally Maura was left on her own with her two best friends. She never did well in social settings, so now that it was just herself and the two sleeping patients she felt more comfortable talking to the pair. First she wandered over to Jane Rizzoli's bed and gazed down at the peaceful face. She thought of the pain it showed days earlier- emotional pain as she ranted for Maura to help her brother, and then later physical pain as the bullet tore through her body. It was nice to see her face relaxed and peaceful in sleep, but Maura was looking forward to the next day. The doctor took Jane off the medication that was keeping her in a medically induced coma late in the day, so they assumed she would wake up no later than noon the following day. "You are one of the strongest people I know, Jane. You'll pull through this...probably driving us all nuts while you recuperate." She chuckled knowing how true that statement would be. Jane would be itching to get back out in the field the minute she woke up. However the humor was short-lived as Maura just hoped that IA wouldn't stand in her way of getting back out there. But that was a battle to fight another day, First was to get both Jane and Frankie up and out of the hospital. Maura and the Rizzolis could handle anything after that. She leaned over the bed railing to place a light kiss on Jane's forehead, "Sleep well my friend."

She thought about finally having a true friend like Jane in her life, and she knew that she was very lucky. With that friendship, and through work, she was also able to meet her true love. She squeezed Jane's hand lightly before finally gliding over to her brother's bed. She pulled over a nearby chair and lowered the railing of the bed closest to her so she could more easily clutch at his hand. "So why are you being so stubborn? If you want to have a sleeping contest with your sister, you could at least make it a fair fight when she's not just asleep because of the medication." She hated that the only answer she got back was from the monitoring equipment. She liked being able to spend the night with Frankie, but this was not how she would prefer the night to play out. She thought back to a better time. The first night they spend together at her home.

* * *

~7 weeks ago~

Maura wanted to show Frankie more about who she was, and how she was raised. She was excited to be able to take him out to one of the fancier restaurants in Boston. She had already told him a bit about her previous marriage and how she always felt bad about spending any of her hard earned money as Dr. Victor Banks worked with charity organizations and so would tell her how many hungry orphans her pair of new shoes could feed, or a new well of clean water that could have been dug for the cost of her outfit and a night out on the town. She liked the various charity organizations that she did help, but she also liked to be able to treat herself now and then. And Friday night was not just about having a good time, but showing Frankie a bit of her world. Just as he had shown her a bit of his with the sports bars and a few really good hole-in-the-wall restaurants. The 'gems hidden in plain sight' he liked to call them.

To her it seemed like an easy question. "You do have a coat and tie, right?" But the combined look of confusion and worry answered her better then any words could have. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have assumed." She breathed out a deep breath and wondered what to do about the dinner reservations for tomorrow as the place had a set dress code.

"I coulda asked, but I've never been to anyplace that didn't just have the usually 'no shirt, no shoes, no service' rule. Heck a few places I've been to on the coast don't even require that."

He smiled up at her as he laughed and Maura couldn't help but melt. It was her misunderstanding so she would figure out the solution to this new problem. With their work schedules and the early reservation at the restaurant, there was no time to find a suit before tomorrow night so she canceled the reservation and decided to pick up a nice meal on the way home. She could pull out her good china, and the whole nine yards and create a nice, relaxing, candlelit dinner right at home. It was a good thing she canceled the reservations anyway as work cut into her Friday evening and early Saturday. Death never was one to take a weekend off.

So the day after their arranged but ill-planned date, Frankie found himself pulling in to Maura's driveway. He did dress up before he went over to Maura's home. However his version of dressy clothes included a pair of slightly wrinkled black slacks and a light blue button up shirt. He wasn't sure why he was nervous as he walked from his car to her front door with a grocery store bouquet of daisies and tulips. But his heart was racing as he pushed the doorbell, and he wiped his sweaty palms on his pant leg as he heard the sound of clicking that he assumed was Maura in her usual heels approaching the door. As the door swung open his breath was stolen as he caught a look at his girl. She was always stunning, but tonight she had taken even more care of her appearance. She was wearing a red dress that hugged her tightly at the top and the shirt flared out to just above her knees. He stared at the amount of bare leg between the end of the shirt to the tall red heels and had to swallow before he could force out the words, "You look gorgeous," and held out the flowers.

She smiled knowingly and took the flowers before stepping back to allow Frankie to come into her home. He had been to her house before, to pick her up for a date and drop her off, but this was the first time he had been inside. As with everything about herself, she even guarded her dwelling, so he knew this was a major leap forward. She had been to his place before though.

She led him to an impeccably set table. He noticed a bottle of champagne chilling in an ice bucket. He smelled the wonderful aromas wafting up from covered dishes. Saw the place setting with a large china dinner plate topped with a smaller plate and finally a bowl. Next to the plates was more silverware then he knew what to do with. "I never understood why anyone needs so many forks."

She pointed to the various utensils: forks for salads and main course, and spoons for soup, coffee, and dessert. It was all so confusing. They ate their dinner, with Maura often giving advice on proper etiquette, and the conversation was kept pretty light. Trying to leave work behind in the office and just using this time to learn more about each other.

After Maura removed the dinner plates and brought out coffee and a couple small bowls of some type of custard, the question about proper utensils was again renewed. "Pop once took us for a celebration dinner. Jane wanted to try lobster and so we splurged after her First Communion." He chuckled and seemed to gaze into the past, seeing his family at dinner rather then Maura at her dinner table. "She didn't know that the little fork that came was to get the meat out. She thought Ma was making a point and trying to get her to take smaller bites. She still figured out how to use it like a mini shovel. Those mashed potatoes didn't know what hit 'em. Ma was mortified."

Maura wasn't sure how the topic of Jane's horrible dining experiences started, but she decided to add her own and informed Frankie about the time Jane stabbed her fish at a dinner party and literally got an eye full. "Man, I can't wait until we tell everyone about us. I can't wait to let Janie know I have more embarrassing stories on her." He laughed but he noticed how Maura tensed up a bit at his comment and he wanted to kick himself for bring up the topic that they were still debating. He reached over and squeezed Maura's hand. "No hurry. We'll tell them when we're both ready." She tried to smile but he could tell it was a bit forced as she got up to start clearing the dishes off the table. When she came back in for the last few dishes he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her towards him. "I mean it." He stood up and pulled her into a fiery kiss to show her that first and foremost it was about just them.

The next morning after the coffee was done brewing and the toaster spit out two lightly toasted onion bagels. Maura again sat down at her dining room table and stared intently at the wall across from her as if to avoid looking at the table and picturing what went on there the night before. Frankie came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her in a good morning hug, "We never did finish our etiquette lesson on dining, did we?" He chuckled. He loved seeing Maura in the mornings. Still a bit sleep tousled and this morning was extra adorable as she was wearing his button up shirt from the night before which fell to mid thigh. She was clutching the cup of coffee like her life depended on it.

She felt the reverberations of his laugh, "Because someone couldn't keep his hands where they belonged. Next time I might need to tie your shoulders to the chair like I saw Madam Rossa do for a very clumsy girl in finishing school. That way you are forced to keep you back straight, your elbows off the table, and your hand can't stray too far."

"Ohh, and the kinky side of Maura Isles comes out. They always do say to watch out for the quiet ones." He sat down in the chair next to her to be able to watch her expression

"Frankie."

"Sis always did say that anyone dating a cop was usually interested in the cuffs."

"Frankie!"

"You're right. We might have to try that again sometime. Your elbows were definitely on the table. And I don't think you kept your back straight"

"FRANKIE!"

He laughed a deep belly laugh-at the cute, embarrassed blush creeping up Maura's face, at the situation, and at his luck at finding someone to make his so happy. He always wanted what his father had with a loving yet often aggravated wife, maybe a kid someday... this was the first time that he thought he had finally found his other half in that scenario. His mirth was infectious as Maura soon caught it and started to chuckle.

They continued to joke and chat as they ate their breakfast, but all too soon Frankie needed to leave. He hated to run out on Maura. Usually their dates were on Friday so that they had the option to hang out late into the evening and through the next day if they so desired. But other than for death, his family would expect him to be at the house on Sunday for their weekly dinner.

He kissed her and then hurried toward the door. He was already running late and could just imagine the scolding his Ma would give him. He really wanted to take Maura as he longed to shout it from the rooftops that he loved this woman, but a small part of him also wanted her to come to shield him from the upcoming tongue lashing. He shouted over his shoulder as he reached the door, "I love you."

She smiled at him and said, "I know." He also couldn't wait until she would feel comfortable saying those words to him...it would be like heaven to his ears.

* * *

"Frankie, you have to wake up now. We need to talk. Okay, I need to talk, you can just listen." She listened to the rhythm of the beeps and the whoosh of the ventilators and she closed her eyes to prevent her walls from crumbling from the water pressure. Despite trying, first one tear and then many more started to trail down her checks as she finally had a moment with just herself and those injured a few days ago. The stress of the day and the endless waiting since had finally caught up with her. She leaned her head against his shoulder and literally used it as a shoulder to cry on. She didn't realize that the night nurse was standing in the doorway wondering if she should come in. She decided to check on the rest of her patients before coming back to this room. Hopefully that would give the grieving woman enough time to collect herself.

Hours later, as an early morning sunlight tried to pierce through the closed blinds, the night nurse came to perform her final check of patients before she left for the day. The movement jerked Maura back into the land of the living, and she was grateful to see the nurse and not Angela or Frank as she was still clutching Frankie's hand, and she could feel the tears that had dried on her face. She stood up stiffly and moved out of the way so that Margaret could get better access to the patient and the monitoring devices to make sure that everything was working well. She used that time to go wash the tears off her face, and as she hid the evidence of her hurt, she also shored up the walls to prevent the emotions from overwhelming her. She walked back into the room, looking more like the strong and self-assured woman that most knew her as. She moved the chair from Frankie's bedside and took up her usual set in the middle of her two friends.

The nurse gave her a knowing, sympathetic smile as she finished up jotting notes on first Frankie's and then Jane's charts and walked out the door. Those silent workers who see all, nearly do all, and yet somehow many of them still stayed sane and comforting to patients and their families.

* * *

Frank used the keycard and then held the door open for his wife to enter first. "Oh my God, Frank. This place is bigger then our first apartment. It probably costs more a day then we paid in a month too." Granted most anyplace was bigger then the dumpy studio apartment that they first rented biweekly until Tommy started to crawl around, and Angela learned that she was again expecting. Luckily with the bit they saved from living as they did, and some help from their parents. They were able to purchase the house that the family grew up in.

"Maybe she needed to do this, so let her and please don't badger her about it when we go back." He looked around as he placed the small suitcase on the bed .

"I don't badger..." he shot her an odd glance "..much." She heard his muffled snort but decided to ignore it as she was too tired to argue.

They called in for room service as both were too tired to deal with getting back out. While waiting for the food to arrive, Angela changed into a pair of comfortable pajamas and settled against the headboard. With her eyes closed, she heard the knock on the door, and heard as her husband brought in the tray with his chicken and potatoes and her soup and salad as she didn't want something too heavy before she passed out into a blissful, comfortable sleep. She felt the shift of the bed as her husband sat beside her and placed the tray between them. "Almost like a second honeymoon," she said as she opened her eyes. Granted she thought that it was a lot better then the step-up from a sleazy motel that they stayed in and the food looked and smelled much better then the fast food that they grabbed on the way. "Granted then we didn't have kids to worry about though," she said soberly before she took a bite of her crunchy salad.

"Well you were already carrying," Frankie said trying to keep the conversation a bit lighter and remembering some happier times.

"We didn't know that at the time, and thank god your mother bought that Tommy was early, even though he has never been on time for anything in his entire life," she tried not to sound too bitter that he wasn't coming home, even knowing that his siblings were injured. He never liked cops, especially ones who were related.

Whether the topic or the long days, the conversation came to a close and silence hung in the air as they both munched away at their very late dinner. As Frank moved the dishes out into the hall for someone to pick up, Angela turned down the sheets and sighed as she wearily sank into the comfortable bed. The lights were extinguished, and Frank slid into the bed. In the dark with her husband's arms holding her tight, she felt secure enough to finally voice, "I'm scared for Frankie and Janie."

" I know, me too," and he gave her a kiss to the back of her head as they fell asleep.

Six hours after going to sleep, Angela blearily cracked an eye open and stared at the glowing red numbers displaying the time. For a few minutes her sleep fogged brain didn't seem to understand what it was seeing and then she sat up quickly, "Frank wake up. We should have set and alarm." Angela shook his shoulder a few times before finally getting a mumbled response.

"We know the kids are still sleeping, and we needed it too. You always said it was good to nap with the kids would when they were babies." He tried to pull his wife back down so they could get another hour or two of sleep but she was having none of it.

"And I will do that when we get them back to the house. Hell it will be worse than when they were babies. Now there will be three big babies who can talk back and complain about everything."

Frank thought better than asking about who the third cranky 'kid' would be. He got up and stumbled to the bathroom mumbling the whole way, "and she says she doesn't nag."

"I heard that!"

"You always do," he laughed, ducked into the room, and closed the door as he heard the thump as a shoe hit the now closed door.

When he came back out, he saw his wife sitting on the edge of the bed waiting to get in the room to take a quick shower. "Plus you know Maura would have called if there was anything new to tell us."

"I think there is something up there. I know that she's good friends with Janie...what if it's more then that?" Angela wondered aloud.

"Then we love them both," but Frank had a feeling his wife was barking up the wrong tree, but he wasn't about to tell her that. He gave her a kiss and said, "go get your shower and I'll call for some breakfast to be set up." They both quickly cleaned up, ate a very quick bite, and then grabbed a few sandwiches and some fruit from the small fridge and headed back over to the hospital to have a quiet picnic with loved ones...waiting for them to wake up.

* * *

She felt an object poking into the back of her hand and her senses flared to life, or as much as they could still being dulled by medication. She heard voices around her and focused in on a calming masculine voice asking her to open her eyes. That voice was known, safe, and nothing like the voice of Charles Hoyt who she immediately thought of upon waking up. Her brain started processing that the object poking through her skin was too small, and not as painful as the scalpels that Hoyt had used to pin her hands to the basement floor. However she wished she would have stopped processing herself and her surroundings when she got to the part about why she was laying down.

The pain set her mind into a whirlwind. She wandered backwards in time. Feeling the bullet tear through her body. Hearing the shot. Grappling for the gun. Being dragged out of headquarters...away from her little brother. _Frankie, where was Frankie? _The fear for her brother, the pain, and the adrenaline starting to course through her body tried to increase her breathing rate. It was then she realized she couldn't breathe like she was trying to.

Jane reached up to claw at the breathing tube. She felt someone grab her hand and hold it tight. She hated the feeling of being restrained as it always lead to something bad, and she was about to fight her attacker when she heard the calming voice again.

"Janie. It's okay. You're okay. Open your eyes up for me, princess. Come on." Finally after days of waiting, Frank Rizzoli was greeted with the beautiful sight of his daughter's eyes. Granted they were pain-filled and not focused, but she was in there. "Hi, sweetheart. You gave your mother and me one hell of a scare." He smiled at her to let her know that her Pop was there to chase away any demons and nightmares.

Jane heard the sniffling first, and then saw her mother standing behind her father's shoulder. She shifted her gaze and saw a smiling, yet weary looking Maura Isles at the foot of her bed. Her gaze then caught on the figure laying across the room.

Maura saw the gaze of her friend look to her and she gave a smile, and then noticed the eyes focus behind her. "He's stable, but I'll let the doctors tell you more when they come in to check you out." And as if on cue, the day nurse Sharron and Dr. Ballard came into the room.

"So Sleeping Beauty finally wakes up," the doctor joked. As the nurse checked the vitals, the doctor asked a few yes or no questions. Jane was just glad that at least it didn't hurt to blink his answers out, even though she seemed to be sluggish in doing that simple task. She blinked once for yes. She thought she could breathe out deeply to get the tube out of her throat.

"Okay, I'm going to need you to exhale forcefully or cough on the count of three. One...two...three."

Jane tried to force air out of the currently blocked windpipe and her chest seemed to explode in pain. _Oh my God!_ Her chest felt like it was on fire. No, it felt worse than that as she remembered when her chest nearly was lit on fire by a burning flare. She was in too much pain to note when the tube was removed and she was left gasping for the filtered hospital air. The change put her in a coughing fit that pulled at torn yet healing muscle, put pressure on her cracked ribs, and constricted the patched up balloon of a lung. She was in a dark haze of pain, and so she had no clue about the nurse inserting a needle into her IV. She was just glad when the pain started to fade away and she felt her body slipping back onto the comfortable pillow of sleep. The last thing she remembered after the pain, but before the all-consuming darkness, was a calloused hand gripping hers tightly and whispering that they would be there when she woke up again.


	7. Chapter 7

DISCLAIMER: I do not own this show, the books, or these characters. I only borrow them.

**Chapter 7**

After Jane's initial wake-up, she was in and out of awareness throughout the day. The second time she woke up, she stayed lucid long enough to listen to Maura tell her that Frankie has been resting but stable.

Jane closed her eyes again in sleep, and Maura yawned wishing to do the same after her long night of waiting and then finally sleeping in a chair.

"Why don't you go take a nap, and I'll give you a call if your needed and you can be right back over here." Angela was a great mother, and that tendency didn't just stop with trying to manage her own kids' lives. "Thanks for staying with the kids last night, but now I think you could use a breather."

Maura wanted to stay. Hell, she _wanted_ a lot of things right now. Mainly for Frankie to open his eyes. But she knew she needed to get something to eat and could use that nap that Angela was trying to force on her. Plus maybe this way she would get the chance later to be alone with Jane and Frankie again if she and their mom took shifts sitting with them. "Okay, but doesn't hesitate to call."

The closer she got to the hotel and the comfortable sleeper sofa, the more her body seemed to drag the last few feet. She collapsed on the sofa and as sleep started to overtake her she grumbled that her shirt was going to wrinkle. Seconds later the sound of a soft snore was the only thing that could be heard. Nearly two hours later, Maura stretched, feeling much more like herself. She walked in to the bathroom and noticed she was looking more like herself too as the dark circles had receded even more than the previous morning. Except for the shirt...she really couldn't stand to wear wrinkled clothing. She got a change of clothes, today a pair of navy slacks and a light blue sweater knowing it would help against the chill of the hospital. After she showered and changed she briefly thought about changing again as the colors made her think of the horrible uniforms she had to wear at the Catholic school she attended for awhile. Those nuns still occasionally showed up in her nightmares. Granted she wasn't sure which was scarier...the nuns themselves, or when they told her she was wrong. However she didn't want to waste any more time away from her friends and so she decided that her outfit was presentable. She grabbed her purse, checked to see if any new messages on her cell phone, and hurried out the door.

Maura Isles rushed down the hospital corridor on a mission, to get back to her friends and continue the waiting game. Her sun-kissed brunette hair seemed to fly behind her due to her quick pace. "Dr. Isles..." she was tempted to pretend that she didn't hear the melodious voice trying to grab her attention, but thought that maybe the speaking nurse was trying to tell her that one of her friends had been taken down for more scanning. She turned and faced a nurse with a pixie haircut of her dirty blonde hair, wearing a pink set of scrubs, who looked somewhat familiar.

The nurse leaned over the nurses' station desk looking like she was about to jump over to literally grab Maura's attention if she wouldn't have turned around. "..Dr. Isles I hope there wasn't some mix up. Someone from your office already came and picked up the body."

Maura felt frozen to the spot, the sweater didn't help the chill that seemed to grip at her heart. Her brain didn't seem to process the facts, like the fact that Angela said she would call. She knew that in an emergency it might take awhile for the phone call to be made, but in the back of her mind she knew that time gap wouldn't be long enough for her office to be called and to be finished with the pick up. She could only think of what might have happened. Frankie still wasn't waking up, was something worse off then the doctor's thought. Jane did wake up, but she had a lot of injuries that could cause her body to cease functioning properly. She wanted to bolt down the hallway and see which of her friends was now gracing her place of work. She also feared looking into that door and seeing which bed was now empty of it's occupant. Her breath started coming faster as she pondered what to do, and what had happened. She almost missed the conversation that started up next to her.

The same night nurse, Margaret, must have been close enough to hear the statement and see the panicked look on Maura's face and so she rushed over to intervene before she had another patient to take care of. "Denise, Maura isn't here professionally but personally."

Denise first had an odd look of confusion on her face, before she blanched as she thought of how her words might have been perceived, "I'm so sorry, Dr. Isles. I didn't know."

Maura didn't have a chance to respond, even if she could have thought of the words to say, as Margaret led her away to chat. "Both Jane and Frankie are doing well. I even think Jane is still awake and talking with her mother. Come on breathe. You don't want to go and worry your friends, do you?" Maura saw the smile grace the older woman's face. Her dark hand clutched Maura's own and she took a deep breath, pulling strength from this amazingly kind woman. "That's better. Sorry about Denise. She's been out the last few days so wasn't aware that you've been around so much."

The nurse stood with Maura as she recovered from her bout of heart-numbing fear. She smiled briefly at Margaret before pushing away from the wall she was leaning on, and started her trek back down the hall, albeit a little slower then before. She pushed on her mask of calm indifference that made so many assume that she was an unfeeling bitch, the 'Queen of the Dead.'

She was about to enter the room when she heard an odd conversation coming out the partially ajar door. She wished she would have caught the beginning of the conversation as her curiosity was piqued as she heard Jane ask her mom, "So it's okay for me to have a girlfriend, but not for Frankie to have a boyfriend?" Her mask shifted a bit at the interesting pieces she heard, and she couldn't help but cracking a smile at a few places.

* * *

Angela had been sitting reading a couple articles from a Good Housekeeping magazine that she had found in a nearby waiting area. She heard her daughter's breathing change as wakefulness again pulled her out of a blissful sleep. She watched her daughter start to stretch as she often did in the mornings, and then heard a hoarse, "Aww, fuck." Even knowing her daughter was in pain, she couldn't help the usual words from spilling out as she approached the bed with a cup of melting ice slivers.

Jane slowly came to. Hearing the beeps of the machines and soft breathing of the people in the room. Before she could think better of it, she stretched trying to get the usual kink out of her back from laying down too long. The pain in her chest and stomach flared and she pulled her arms against her chest as if she could hold in the pain. But she couldn't. Nor could she hold in the first word that popped into her head. "Aww, fuck." The voice sounded strange to her ears but she couldn't bring herself to care. Granted she did care and even got a chastised look on her face as she saw her mother approach her side.

"Janie, language."

But before she could spit out the whole, "sorry, Ma," her mother shoved a spoonful of ice in her mouth. _Well that works too_, Jane thought before she closed her eyes in bliss as the ice melted and helped quench her parched throat. Any other time she would have hated the babying that she was receiving, but as long as the ice kept coming she was too happy to care...at least for the moment.

That moment was short lived after about the fourth spoonful. All too soon, Jane turned her head away from the embarrassing spoon feeding. Seeing that her daughter was sated for the time being, and didn't look like she was going to fall right back asleep, Angela went into her mother detective mode. _Where did the kids think they got their ability to roast suspects, really_. She heard her daughter's voice answer her thought, _Grill Ma, grill suspects, not roast._ Angela pulled her chair closer to the bed, sat down holding on to her daughter's hand and started the questioning. The sunlight pouring in the window made a good impression of a spotlight right in the victims'...er, her daughter's eyes. "So..."

For once Jane wished sleep was trying to pull her under again. She heard the inflection as her mom started talking and all she could think about was, _Oh crap, I've been stuck in bed, what could I possibly have done wrong...well, other then ending up here_. Granted she never would have been able to even imagine where her mother was going to take the conversation.

"...are you and Maura seeing each other?"

Jane just sputtered, and tried to pull her hand away from her mother in shock. Angela held tighter as if thinking her daughter could get away, but the cords and IVs tethered her to the bed more then her mother's hand-holding was. "What?... Ma, no."

"Your father and I would support you, Jane."

"Ma," but before Jane could ask if her mother was going delusional from lack of sleep, her mother continued.

"Granted, I'd still want grandbabies... but there are ways."

"MA!" Jane wondered if she was really awake or dreaming herself into 'The Twilight Zone.' "No, Maura and I are just friends," at her mother's speculative look Jane defended, "and no, not the 'just friends' that Cousin Sharron says she and her 10 year live in-roommate are."

Jane was surprised to see the regretful look that replaced the questioning one on her mom's face. "Oh, well...too bad, she'd make a nice addition to the family. She's a sweet kid."

"So have Frankie date her," Jane suggested.

"He's seeing someone. Pretty serious too. He asked for your Grandma Regina's ring to give her."

"Really?" Jane knew that her brother was seeing someone, but she didn't know he was that serious about her. She even tried to grill him about it, but all she could get from him was that they met through work. Jane was still thinking it had to be Erin Volchko from the hair, fiber, and trace evidence lab. "Have you met the girl? Does she know he's injuried? Has she been around?" Jane was curious to know if the question of who her brother was seeing had been answered while she was out of it. That would be so unfair.

Her mother brought an end to the rapid-fire questions. "She might have been in. You both had lots of visitors from the precinct come by early on. But no one said anything to your father or I, so I'm not sure."

So the question still hung in the air. Jane knew she would get to the bottom of it sooner or later, so she decided to go back to the earlier questioning her mother started. "So..." now the questioning tone was coming out of the daughter's mouth eerily like her mother at times. "...you want the _nice_ daughter, so by default I'm the last pick to get her in the family." Maura would be a lot better at playing dress up like her mother always tried to get her into. "There's always Tomm..." she shuttered a bit at that brief thought, "never mind that's just cruel." She was surprised that her mother didn't jump down her throat to defend Tommy as she always did. _Wow, the golden boy finally did something to piss Ma off_, Jane thought before trying to bring the conversation back to the usual fun, yet annoying banter. "Are we sure Frankie's seeing a girl?" Jane thought the question was only fair. She almost chuckled at the stricken look on her Ma's face, but she curbed her humor knowing that the pain it would bring wouldn't be worth it.

"Jane, don't joke about something like that." Angela said that seriously then cracked a smile, "plus Nana's ring would be too small."

Jane couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped before she could stop it. The chuckle turned into a swallowed moan of pain, but she wasn't about to let the conversation slide. "So it's okay for me to have a girlfriend, but not for Frankie to have a boyfriend?"

"Well, no... but there is less chance of getting my grandkid then. Why else do parents put up with kids doing stupid stunts and aging them much too fast?" Angela glared at her daughter as if the current predicament was all her fault.

"I love you too, Ma," Jane cracked a smile before a yawn decimated it. Jane was tired of this, and just literally tired. Between the pain meds and her body trying to heal itself, she never had long moments of lucidity. She knew she was about to lose the battle of keeping her eyes open soon.

Angela chuckled at her daughter's answer, with both a touch of sarcasm and affection. She noticed her daughter's eyes start to droop. Leaning over in her chair, Angela brusheed a clump of sweat soaked hair off Jane's forehead and lovingly stated, "I love you too, baby. Go to sleep." Jane didn't need to be told twice.

Maura stood outside the door for a few moments longer. She heard the sincerity mixed with the sarcasm from Jane. Heard Angela's warm response, and a feeling she wasn't really used to tried to overtake her. Thinking about it, and the vast amount of feelings she understood mainly through pictures and biological responses, she was able to come up with the word...envious. She was envious that the entire Rizzoli family was so close and quick to say, and show love. She took a few calming breaths again and entered the room.

Angela looked up as the doorway pushed open. "You just missed her. She fell back asleep."

Maura caught herself before she said, _I know_, "Oh, that's too bad." But she was grateful for it, too. She needed the now comfortable silence that hung in the room, plus Jane would have been able to see past the slight crack in her mask and know that something was up with Maura. For the first time she was grateful that both were still asleep so she could process her thoughts and emotions privately.

AN: Sorry it's short, so I thought I'd post it early and try for a longer one soon. Hope you liked the fun mother-daughter chat as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thought we all needed a little bit of brief humor. Please review and let me know what you think. Thanks :D


	8. Chapter 8

DISCLAIMER: I do not own this show, the books, or these characters. I only borrow them.

**Chapter 8**

"Maura, Earth to Maura," a whispered voice pulled her away from the article in the Journal of Forensic Science that had so captured her attention. Maura's head shot up, hoping to see those warm brown eyes twinkling at her. Well she did, just not the ones she had been hoping for for the last few days. She looked over to see Jane struggling to sit up and not let out too many expletives under her breath as the pain gripped her. Maura marked her spot in the journal and then hurried over to Jane's bedside to help position the bed at a slight angle so that her body could still relax against it rather than doing more painful work by physically keeping herself sitting upright. She knew that one of the muscles injured by the bullet was the rectus abdominis muscle which helped with sitting and walking, so she knew that even this little bit of effort on Jane's part could not have been pleasant. She fluffed the pillows behind Jane trying to make the bed a bit more comfortable.

"Okay, okay, I'm thoroughly fluffed. So what were you reading that made me have to phone up to the Mother Ship?" Maura tilted her head confused for a moment at the comment. Jane had to stifle a belly laugh as the head tilt reminded her of her dog, Jo, when she was contemplating something... usually how to best attack her chew toy.

"An article on _Arsenic Poisoning Caused by Intentional Contamination of Coffee at a Church Gathering—An Epidemiological Approach to a Forensic Investigation_. At first the authorities thought the people were getting sick due to the sandwiches they were all eating when they had fellowship, but it was actually a church member poisoning the coffee." Maura started to see the glassy look that appeared in Jane's eyes and wondered briefly if she was already going to go back to sleep.

"Sounds riveting," a sarcastic sneer graced Jane's face for a moment before switching to thoughtful. "Actually, on second thought, can I have the article when your finished?" At a questioning look from Maura she continued, "I want to wave that in Ma's face the next time she tries to drag me to church. Where is Ma anyway? I'm surprise she hasn't become stuck to the chair."

"How would she? there's no glue around." Maura said this straight-faced. "Oh, you mean stuck from sitting too long. The body does tend to tense up in that situation but she wouldn't really be stuck to the chair, more just stuck in a seated posture."

"Great reasoning skills there, Sherlock."

"Did you hit your head when you fell after you were shot, Jane. My name is Maura." Jane saw the humorous glint in Maura's eyes that informed her of the joke rather than Maura'a just not understanding the conversation. Sometimes it just wasn't clear with the woman.

Jane just rolls her eyes and decided to switch topics. "So what's been going on while I've been lazing about?"

"You mean healing."

"Same thing. Come on, give me details." Jane all but whined and stuck out her bottom lip in an exaggerated pout.

Maura just shook her head at Jane's antics but decided it was easier to just give in to her demands. "I don't know anything first hand mind you, as I've been hanging out with your mom or standing guard when your parents would go sleep. Your dad's been in and out due to a previous job commitment which he finished up last night. So now he can stay around more."

Jane tried not to tear up. She knew it was a major thing for her father to turn down jobs, especially now with how bad the job market really was. Trying to hide her feelings as usual, she again steered the conversation in another direction. "That's good. So how's it going at work?" She didn't ask more than that even though she was wondering if the blood smears were cleaned up, including her own on the sidewalk out front and if all the perps were killed or at least under lock and key in the jail.

"Korsak and Frost have been keeping me in the loop. They are buried in mounds of paperwork or so Korsak keeps complaining about." Maura decided to leave out the information that IAB might be after her badge, or that Bobby Marino was just down the hall cuffed to a similar bed as Jane and Frankie. She knew that would not be good, and she could just imagine Jane fighting the pain to walk down the hall and try to finish the job that the bullet didn't. Before she could stop herself from that line of thought though she did mention one bit of gossip she heard from Korsak, "There is a bet on at work. Crowe started it. He thinks you shot yourself on purpose."

Jane was dumbfounded. She was a cop for Christ's sake and saw too many gunshot victims...usually in Dr. Isles' morgue. She knew about bullet ricochet and all the bits and pieces in the body that kept it going. She knew how precious and fragile life was, and even wanting to get help for her brother she wouldn't do something so foolhardy as shooting herself...putting herself in danger as she did trying to wrestle the gun away sure, but not shooting herself. Well no, she could see shooting herself in the leg to slow an abductor down or so a sniper could get a better line of sight. But shooting herself in the chest at close range was paramount to suicide...and her Ma's wrath if nothing else would scare her from ever trying that. She didn't need Maura to tell her how 'lucky' the shot was to actually pass through her abdomen and chest with as 'little' damage as it did. She wanted to rant and rave but knew that Maura was only the messenger so all she said to this new bit of information was, "Crowe's an ass."

The comfortable silence of two good friends settled lightly on the room until Jane started fidgeting. Maura watched as Jane kept reaching her hand up to swipe at her nose, and then glanced at her hand as she pulled it away. Finally Maura's curiosity got the better of her and she couldn't help but asking, "What are you doing?"

"This nose thing makes me feel like my nose is bleeding." Jane said as she again reached up and lightly brushed at her nose to made sure that she was not in fact bleeding.

"Nasal cannula. And it's needed as your taking shallower breaths. Most patients with rib and lung injuries do as it minimizes the pain somewhat. That 'nose thing'," Maura tried not to roll her eyes at Jane's technical term, "will make sure your blood gets the right amount of oxygen."

Jane glared at the other thin tubes running to her body. "Why can't they pump it in with all the rest of the crap." Okay she knew there were many things with that statement, starting with the fact that the pain meds going into her body were really helpful so should not be classified as crap, and ending with that fact that an air bubble would have been even more deadly than the bullet that pasaed through her.

"Oh, yes, because an air embolism would be preferable to feeling like you have a bloody nose. Why didn't the doctors think about patient comfort?"

Wow, Maura was on a roll with sarcasm today."Just how much sleep have you gotten lately?" Jane asked, curious and a bit worried about her friend.

"Less then you and Frankie," Maura said hoping to keep the upbeat, cheerful friend persona up a bit longer but Jane kept staring at her as she would the worse suspect she was interrogating and finally Maura couldn't withstand the pressure. She let out a weary sigh as she stated, "enough." And it was enough sleep as she wasn't anywhere close to the delusion and death stage that she remembered explaining to Jane during 'The Dominator' case.

Jane could tell that Maura didn't want to talk about important stuff, like how she was faring with all the shit that happened less then a week ago. She could talk with her later when things started to get back to normal. She rolled her eyes, glad that her face didn't hurt as she had been rolling her eyes at people a lot lately. "Fine, I'll wear the nasal cannoli." She finally got a real smile from Maura from the butchered word. It always did. Now she just needed her brother to wake up and give his boyish smile to make her day truly perfect. She glanced across the room at his still sleeping form. It helped her breathe better, at least figuratively she mused as she sucked in another pain filled breath of air. _Yep, smaller breathes really hurt less._

Jane was thinking about taking another nap when she noticed a nurse walk into the room with an armful of towels and clean bedding. Even liking the idea of getting clean, Jane flushed a bit thinking about not only Maura in the room, but her brother even if he was still asleep. Knowing how he loved to annoy his big sister, she could just see him pick the most embarrassing time for her to wake up.

Maura was so tempted to call Jane on the flush. It wasn't like they hadn't seen naked bodies before, granted they were usually dead either at the scene of the crime or on her autopsy table. Any other day she probably would have, but so close to the time when it could have been Jane on that autopsy table made her swallow her words. She closed her eyes as that train of thought was not one she wanted to go down again so soon. She needed some air and knew that would also help Jane out, "I need to stretch and get a cup of coffee... before I become stuck to the chair," she added the last with a slight chuckle both at the absurd conversations she and Jane had, but also because of the look on Jane's face that seemed to say 'thank God'. Maura stood up and stretched. She heard a few bones pop back into their proper alignment and, as she walked out the door and as she shut it, she mentally determined where the bone creaking came from and why. It helped her think about the living over the dead as she felt compelled to do more often these days.

Jane marveled at the efficiency of the nurse. She was given a sponge bath and the sheets changed all within a five minute span. There was a bit of painful movement as Jane needed to roll slightly from one side of the bed to the other as the clean, crisp sheets were fitted to the mattress without her needing to get off it. She gave the nurse major points as she knew just tossing and turning at night and she was often so entangled in the sheet that she would trip out of bed in the mornings. But there were no tangled sheets, or even tangled IV lines, and so she was very impressed, however that soon wore off as the efficient nurse carried that quick, brutal, get it finished attitude over to washing her hair in the annoying pink tub. The wash wasn't so bad, but the brushing...well at least she could say that the pain in her scalp made her forget for a moment that she had a bullet hole in her body. She wished she could move enough to wrench the brush from the nurse's fingers and continue to get the knots and tangles out of her mass of dark curls. She was grateful again with Maura's timing as she came in and sweetly asked the nurse if she could help and took the torture device from the nurse's hand much more gently than Jane wished.

Maura had come back in the room in time to see Jane flinch in pain. Briefly she wondered if the pain was from the surgical incision sites or from the damage from the bullet's path until she noticed another grimace as the nurse nearly tore the bristled brush through Jane's hair. Before she could see the pained look on her friend's face again she asked, " Can I do that?" She was tired of seeing her friends in pain if she could help it. She took the brush and started to gently work out the tangles, starting at the ends and working upward bit by bit. She let her mind wander. She thought about her mother brushing her own hair. _One hundred strokes each night will keep it pretty and shiny_. She loved the attention as so often her mother was busy and it was a nanny, or babysitter who would help her get ready for bed. She found herself mentally counting as she continued to try and tame Jane's wild hair. She reached twenty one when she heard the nurse speak from the curtained off area.

"Hey Frankie. I'm Nurse Reeves. I brought some clean sheets, and I'm just going to give you a nice warm sponge bath, okay?"

Maura had read many journal articles about how coma patients could hear, so she understood the principle of the nurse talking to her patients and telling them what was going on since they couldn't see to process it for themselves, but that didn't mean that she wanted to hear. She really didn't want to think about anyone taking care of Frankie like that. She didn't realize that her grip on the brush tightened, or that she had started pulling the brush with greater force then before.

"Oww"

"Sorry, nasty tangle." And it was a nasty tangle. Maura wanted to go rip the washcloth out of the nurse's hand more then she wanted to get the brush from her when she was hurting Jane. That little green eyed monster wanted so badly to come out and play. Frankie was her's... to see, to take care of, but that would be an odd way of informing his sister that they were seeing each other. _Sorry, I can't finish brushing your hair as I need to go stake my claim. _Yeah, real subtle. She clenched her teeth and continued her mental count as she brushed... twenty-two, twenty-three. She continued past 100 in order to keep her hands busy and away from any damage she might think about delivering to the nurse. She counted out one hundred forty seven as the nurse finally left the room. She set the brush down and looked at the peaceful sleeping face of Jane Rizzoli, much better then the painful grimace from before.

Maura reclaimed her journal and chair, and sat down to finish reading the poisoning article. After two more articles, Angela and Frank joined her in this routine of keeping busy while the kids slept. She informed the pair that Jane was awake for awhile. She didn't say anything about the sponge baths though as her thoughts and feelings were still whirling over her new found emotion of jealousy that she wasn't sure if she could explain the basic situation without those emotions bleeding out in her tone and mannerism. So the trio settled into the familiar: Angela and Maura reading and Frank shifting his gaze between the window and his kids.

Jane woke back up just a few hours later. Her naps were getting shorter but still just as frequent. She reached up a hand to wipe the crust from around her eyes and saw her father first as he walked towards her. "Hey Pop." She smiled at him as she thought of the sacrifice he was making to be here rather then working.

"Hey Princess, so how you feeling?"

She let him off the hook for using that childish nickname that he was fond of on occasion. "Better." At his continued questioning gaze she added, "I hurt." She hoped her voice didn't sound as childlike and whiny as she thought it did. She tried not to glance past her father to see her brother, or even Maura, especially Maura. She always felt comfortable and safe telling her father the truth, but to others she was always afraid of being seen as weak.

And as usual her father didn't try to make the situation seem better than it was or give false hope. He just said, "I'm sorry. I wish I could take your pain and your brother's."

"That'd just be cruel, I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy," she smiled up to him to let him know she appreciated the sentiment though.

Her mom stepped forward then. Jane was actually surprised she restrained herself that long, but was glad her Ma let them have that brief moment. "The nurse popped her head in just a few moments ago to see if you were awake for the lunch tray."

Jane glanced at the clock and noticed it was only ten minutes past 11am. It seemed odd thinking about lunch that early considering it was usually an on the go, whenever she could find the time, kind of moment for her.

Maura didn't leave the chair as the bed area was already crowded, but she did pipe up, "It would be smart to try soft foods sooner rather then later. Make sure your body processes everything correctly. Plus it smells pretty good."

Angela and Jane just looked at her like she was nuts. They knew what good food smelled like, and it was not the odd smells drifting in from the hallway. Jane just assumed since Maura went to med school and worked in the hospital for awhile that she must have gotten acclimated to the greasy, lumpy hospital food. Angela just thought that the poor girl needed to come over to dinner more so she could get a better appreciation of 'good food.' Angela went and flagged down the nurse who was passing out the lunch trays.

The same nurse who gave the baths and brushed hair earlier came in. She didn't seem to notice the glare that Jane leveled on her, or even the fact that Maura decided to sit on her hands and occasionally glanced her way in an even more menacing glare. The nurse set the tray down on the tray table and swung it around closer to Jane. As she lifted off the cover she said in an overly cheery voice, "Doesn't this look yummy?" She sounded more like she should work in the pediatrics unit, or even more appropriate, the nursery.

Jane thought it looked anything but 'yummy'. She thought of all the words she could call it: shit, crap, not fit for human consumption, but she knew her mom would call her out on most of them. So she just grimaced a smile and made a noncommittal grunt.

The nurse must have taken it as a positive as she smiled brightly as she helped angle the bed and Jane to be able to eat better before she left.

Jane looked down at the mess and wondered aloud, "Why couldn't they have kept me on saline permanently? It tastes much 'yummier' then this." Her father snorted a laugh at the disgusted tone she used on the nurse's word of the day, yummy. There was a piece of...she guessed chicken in a congealing clump of gray that was supposed to mimic gravy. She let a glob of runny, boxed, mashed potatoes slide off her spoon and plop back into the bland colored mess on the tray. It was sad when the only thing that she was sure about what it was were the peas and the orange cup of jello.

"Saline solution technically has no taste since it doesn't go past your tastes buds," Maura couldn't help but supply that bit of information.

"Exactly," Jane made a disgusted face, "and this stuff has to." Jane ate a few bites of the fake meat and potatoes, making faces as each bite slid down. It was awful, not just the food, but having an audience watching her. She hated eating when no one else was. Maura could see all the 'rules' she was breaking, her father was just having fun watching his girl complain and make faces, but her Ma was watching her like a hawk to make sure that Jane didn't hide any of the food as she was already told once, 'Eat up, it will make you stronger.' She looked again at the tray and seriously doubted that. She moved on to the peas, at least she liked them, and she didn't see how anyone could mess up peas. She changed her mind quickly as the hospital limited the used of butter and salt on the food so there was nothing to bring out their sweet flavor.

As the third spoonful of peas neared her mouth, a few rolled off the spoon and of course plopped down the front of her hospital gown. _Great_, slit up the back, and food down the front. She tried not to hear the small tinkling laugh that she heard from Maura before she covered it with a slight cough. Or the laughter that her father didn't even try to cover up as her mom berated him, "Frank, stop laughing at Jane," but she could her the laughter in her Ma's voice as she said it. Why would hospitals serve peas? She thought of her grandfather in the months before he passed away. His hands constantly shook, and she bet that many in the hospital also had similar afflictions. Or like herself and couldn't yet sit up all the way, and so the reach from the tray to her mouth was just asking for trouble. Plus if peas weren't cooked well there was only one thing they were good for, and she remembered some great food fights she and her brothers had gotten into. She always tried to flick a pea into the spot between their eyes. She was pretty good at it too...she wondered how far she could flick a pea.

She quickly snatched up the two runaway peas and then glanced out the window for a moment. As usual her mother just had to know what had grabbed her daughter's attention and so she turned her head to look. The minute her back was turned, Jane turned back, took aim, and shot the pea across the room. She was impressed with herself and her talent.

She might have gotten away with it if not for the increase in volume of the laughter. Maura didn't even try to cover it up this time. Nor could she help herself from wandering over to Frankie and getting a good look at him before she saved him from the stray missile that had hit his chest and then slid down toward his hand. She hid the gentle caress and squeeze she gave his fingers as she fished out the pea.

"Janie," Angela scolded as the situation became clear to her.

"Be glad you were an only sibling, Maura, they wouldn't have liked the tattle-tail," Jane joked. All humor was gone though when her mother just pointed to the tray and told her to eat the food, not play with it. What fun was there in that, especially when the food was so awful.

Eventually Jane had eaten enough that her mother would let the nurse remove the tray. Jane had a new appreciation for eating though as she started to realize how many muscles worked together to make eating happen. After awhile, every swallow hurt and she finally realized her stomach muscles would clench. At least the jello wasn't too bad as it just slid down. She wasn't tired enough to go back to sleep, so she leaned back and listened to the various bits of small talk: her father's last job and the challenges it brought, especially working with a few friends that knew next to nothing about the plumbing business, her Ma talk about the room they all rotated in sharing just a block away. Jane smiled a thanks over to Maura. All of the talk however was brought to a screeching halt though as a horrible sound filled the air.

"Frankie," Jane sat up quickly and painfully wanting to see what was wrong with her brother. She saw a nurse rushed into the room, and then quickly called out over the intercom. Jane understood 'code blue,' 'crash cart,' and 'STAT' and her struggle to get to her brother intensified. In her haste and only caring about her brother, she didn't notice as she ripped the IV line out of her hand and blood started to trickle down it. She didn't hear the crash of the IV stand as her tugging on the cords caused it to topple over. "FRANKIE!" She wanted to get out of her bed to go over and beat some sense into her younger brother to breathe if she had to. The pain that flared in her side and chest was nothing in comparison to the hurt of seeing her brother dying before her eyes.

There was pandemonium in the room as nurses and a couple doctors flew in and toward Frankie's bed. One nurse however was trying to figure out what to do with all the people in the room. Usually she would usher the family out of the room, but one of those family members was in the other hospital bed. She rushed over to make sure the patient stayed in bed. The patient was stronger than she would have assumed. Even the massive pain that she could see painted across the worn face did not stop her struggles. Finally an older gentleman who she assumed was her father rushed in to help, and trapped the girl in a bear hug. So the nurse couldn't really ask him to leave as he was doing a better job of keeping the still struggling patient in her bed than she was able to do. Another women joined the hug, and the remaining visitor in the room slowly backed out of the room. Not feeling needed on this side of the room anymore, the nurse hurried over to the other patient to see if there was something she could be doing there.

In beat with the shrill alarms were the slight hiccuping sobs of Angela as she watched two of her children struggling: one with a nurse and one to survive. She watched as her husband took over the task of keeping Jane still, well at least from leaving the bed as she saw him rocking her as he did when she was much younger. She needed in there too, and so she pushed her way into the hug. Her arms slipped around her much too thin in her opinion daughter as one of Frank's strong arms came around to pull her tighter into their huddle of sorrow. She watched as her son was shocked once...twice...three times. She looked on hopefully as the alarms stopped their horrible screaming.

Frank couldn't stand watching his daughter struggling with the nurse, so he nudged her out of the way so he could pull Jane into a hug. She still struggling a bit so he found himself rocking her and saying whatever came to mind as he did when he was trying to quiet baby Jane down. He wasn't sure what he was saying. He knew it wouldn't really bring comfort because he could feel his own heart being torn apart. While trying to send strength to his son through his intense gaze, he felt his wife push her way into their hug. He put an arm around Angela, and pulled his two girls close to him, at least this way he could keep them both out of the way of the medical professionals so they could do their work and save his boy. He tried to stand stoic and strong, but he felt a tear flow down his check and into his wife's hair.

One minute Maura and the others were just talking and enjoying each other's company, and the next minute everything changed in their world. Maura heard the alarm go off on the nearby machine and knew instantly what was going on. She threw a frightened look over to Frankie's bed as she heard Jane call out to him. His chest was still rising, but she knew at that moment it had more to do with still being hooked up to the ventilator. Before she could think about rushing over to try and help, as she knew she could as a doctor, a nurse ran in and called for backup. Now with all the incoming nurses and doctors Maura knew she wouldn't be permitted anywhere near the patient and shouldn't really be in the room. She stood on shaky legs and started to back up out of the room. Hoping with everything she had that the miracles of medicine would be able to save Frankie. She glanced toward Jane's bed as she heard the crash of metal hitting the floor and heard her friends piteous wails for her brother. She saw Frank's arms engulf Jane as he struggled to keep her still. She saw as Angela pushed her way into the hug as Jane's thrashing started to tapper off. Between the pressure in the room due to the number of people and because of the serious situation, Maura stepped into the hall in order to give the family some privacy.

Maura could still hear and see a bit of what was going on from her out of the way location. She heard the annoying and heart stopping alarm cease and she turned to look, hoping that it meant that Frankie's heart was beating again. She saw one of the nurses removing her hand from the machine; she had turned off the alarm as if that would help soothe the family on the other side of the room as they watched their son and brother dying.

Maura felt that her heart had stopped with that alarm, but she knew better as she could hear the rushing of blood in her ears as it pulsed through the common carotid artery. She heard from the doorway the doctor call the time of death. At 12:27pm the death knell rang out, shattering the hearts of so many who loved him. The quietness of the room without the alarms was soon replaced as Angela's sobs became a wail that would have moved even the hardest of hearts. Maura heard a broken voice screaming "No, no, no, no, no" and still calling for her baby brother until it was muffled as if buried. She peaked into the room, careful to keep her gaze on Jane's side, and saw the family clinging to each other for dear life... a dear life that just passed away. It wasn't her place to join the family in their time of grief. She had wanted to wait and tell Frankie yes before telling the family her part in his life, and so now neither was possible for her.

Frank pulled his wife and daughter tighter to him. He needed the comfort as much as they did at this moment. He saw something out of the corner of his eye and his gaze shifted toward the door. He saw Maura peaking in at the family huddle before slowly backing away and out of his sight. He wanted to go comfort her too, as he knew she at least lost a friend. But his hands were full of the two women in his life to go trailing after a possibility, and if his suspicions were correct, then he wouldn't know how to comfort this third woman or what to say. So he closed his eyes and let his tears fall for his dead son, and for all those hurt because of it.

Maura walked away from the hospital room numbly. She wandered through the hospital and out the main doors without really seeing. The gray sky outside seemed to match Maura's mood much better than the sunny cloudless day when this all started. The rain came down in torrents like the tears she wished she could shed for the loss of a dear friend, passionate lover, and her almost-fiance. She stepped out of the cover from the hospital overhang and slowly walked to her car a block away in the hotel parking lot. She didn't care that she was getting soaked as the rain pelted her. She didn't care that she got water all over her leather seats when she squeaked into the driver's seat. She watched through the window as the rain doubled in magnitude, and she wondered how many corpses the morgue would receive today because of careless drivers. She pushed all the personal feelings and thoughts from this nightmarish day away, just as the windshield wipers pushed the falling rain out of her view. She should get to the morgue...it was going to be a busy day. Death always seemed to have a voracious appetite.

AN: Thank you, thank you for the wonderful reviews—they made my day. Now going to run and hide before I'm tracked down for this chapter. Was the only thing that fit into my storyline really.


	9. Chapter 9

DISCLAIMER: I do not own this show, the books, or these characters. I only borrow them.

**Chapter 9**

Detective Frost noticed Dr. Isles' black Lexus when he pulled into the parking garage after his late lunch break. It was odd seeing her car in it's normal spot after the last few days of its remaining empty as she was at the hospital. She would come in to the morgue only when a colleague needed an expert opinion of an unusual finding in an autopsy. He decided to see if there was anything pressing at his desk and then go down to see the lovely doctor. He noticed the quietness first as he approached his desk and then the somber look on Korsak's face.

"Rizzoli had to go back into surgery. She tore some stitches trying to get out of bed." Korsak chuckled trying to lighten the mood even though it sounded forced to both of them. "You know Jane, she hates sitting still."

The precinct didn't know about Frankie yet as the family almost wanted to guard that information as they were again worried they might be burying two children. It was easier focusing on the one still struggling to survive. It would be hard to ask her fellow officers to keep her in their thoughts and not overlook her if they were all worked up over a dead officer.

"Crap, how are Mr. and Mrs. Rizzoli holding up?" Frost wondered as he seemed to bonelessly fall into his chair.

"Struggling, as any parents would be. But they are holding together better then I would." Korsak thought about his daughter who only seemed to pop back into the picture when she needed something, and thought that actually he would probably fare better as the distance between them would help dull the pain slightly of the fear of losing his only child.

Frost looked up at Korsak wryly, thinking along similar thoughts as the older detective. "I wonder if Maura knows? I should go tell her." He said this but he still sat slumped in his chair looking a bit defeated.

"Shit, she's here?" And in one of his nicer moves, Korsak stood up and started walking toward the elevators, "I'll tell her. I talked to Mrs. Rizzoli, so if she wants to know all the technical terms...well... I at least heard them to be able to butcher them."

It was a usual sight he saw when he stepped into the morgue. Dr. Maura Isles leaning over a decomposing body with her arms literally shoved elbow deep in his innards. Her assistant was the first to notice the detective, and Maura's focus was pulled back to the land of the living when he failed to take the enlarged liver she was trying to hand over so he could weigh it. She looked up and then followed Yoshima's gaze to the overweight man in her doorway. "If Mr. Doland is one of your cases you'll have to wait for your report, as you can see I'm not finished with the examination yet." Her tone was all business.

Korsak's tone was anything but as he coughed and sputtered, "Can I speak with you, Doc?"

Her dry, non-personal tone that had even him calling her 'The Queen of the Dead' once was back full force. "It looks like you can, as you are. What do you want detective?" She continued to excise organs as her focus was mainly back on the corpse.

"I take it you already know then...about Rizzoli?" It was the only reason he could think of for her mannerisms to have reverted so much.

Maura took a deep breath and asked Yoshima quietly to take over and to get Dr. Bristol's help if he needed it. She stripped away the bloodied and fluid covered gloves as she walked toward Korsak. She continued past him, dropping the gloves and other splattered garments in the red biohazard container as she walked out the door.

Vince lumbered after her. Shit, it seemed like she had no clue what he was talking about and he hated this part of his job. He didn't want to have to tell her that her friend and colleague was back in surgery. He breathed a sigh of relief when he heard her say a quiet "Yes, I know," as she walked into her office.

"Oh, that's a relief," Maura kept the cold exterior mask up but she wanted to yell and scream. Ask what was the relief about a senseless death. "I didn't want to have to be the one to tell you. But it's just a simple surgery her mom said." For a brief second she hoped that she left too soon. She had seen a person be given a time of death and then survive. She herself had called time of death on an elderly lady during her ICU rotation before the woman breathed her last rattling breath. But then her mind focused in on one tiny word, one little pronoun that said it all...her. She did leave the hospital too soon, but not for the reason she had hoped. She interjected before Korsak could say anything else, "wait, her...what happened?"

He wanted to joke finally about knowing something that the doc didn't, but the serious look on her face snuffed that amusing thought out. "Her mom said she tore some stitches trying to get out of bed. You know Jane."

Yes, she did know Jane Rizzoli. She hated being cooped up, but more than that, she would fight with everything she had in her to try and help a loved one...and that's just what she did earlier today as Maura looked on stunned. "That would make sense. She was fighting pretty hard to get out of bed."

Korsak chuckled, not yet knowing why Jane struggled so fiercely, "she wanted to finally use the toilet and not piss in a bag huh." He wished he had kept his mouth shut as Maura's dark forbidding gaze looked onto his eyes.

"She wanted to get to her brother." Her gaze told him not to joke about the world wars he had seen erupt between Jane and her brothers. "He coded." She took a deep breath. "He didn't make it."

The silence was overpowering until Korsak yelled, "Shit!" and slammed his fist down on the doctor's desk. Any other time Maura would have given him what for, but she was trying so hard herself to hold it together. For about 5 minutes they sat in silence, in their own thoughts. Maura thinking she should have stayed at the hospital for her friend and her friend's parents; Korsak wondering what he could do for either the doctor in front of him or for his old partner. "After my shift, I think I'll drag Frost to the hospital to see how our partner is." He would always think of Jane as his partner even now that she had a new one.

"Tell Frank and Angela that I'm sorry for leaving. I was called in to help out on a complicated case." Korsak knew that Mr. Doland was nowhere near being a complicated case. There was something bugging him about the situation, something not sitting right, and maybe in other circumstances he would have used his detective skills to try to determine what was up with this new, more stoic version of Dr. Isles. Maybe it was just fatigue...they were all so tired of the horrible crimes they saw daily and were now living.

"Will do, Doc." Korsak left Maura behind in her office. He missed seeing her close her eyes tightly to try and keep the emotions bottled up with her tears. He missed seeing a lone tear streak down her cheek. He missed seeing the heartbroken women and not the stoic doctor as she gazed at the far wall, not seeing anything as her brain was playing happier images from the past.

Within two hours, Maura found herself back in her car and making the short drive to the hospital. She looked out at the sun peaking out between a couple fluffy cumulus clouds. Nature seemed to be reminding her that everything moved on: time, storms, and sadly even people. She wished to ignore what was staring her in the face. She didn't want to move on.

The scene in the hospital confused the topic even more as she seemed to step back in time. Again she found herself in the same waiting room with Angela and Frank Rizzoli. However she had to remind herself that she was not going to be hearing the doctors come in with good news about Frankie this time. And even though the couple found themselves sitting on the same love seat, clutching the other's hand, there was a much greater sense of sadness around them this time mixed in with the ever present worry. They both looked up as Maura entered the room, glad to see the familiar face, but wishing that it would have been news about their daughter being moved into a room...hopefully a different one.

Maura felt like the proverbial deer in the headlights as the pair stared at her. She tried not to fidget as she nearly told an outright lied, "Sorry, I was needed to help out on a complicated case. I came back as soon as I could." Well, it was a complicated case to her... complicated because her mind did not want to focus totally on it. Granted maybe she didn't find herself passing out from the lie because her mind was too numb to be able to realize it. At least the last line wasn't a twisted lie at all. Even now she had to force herself to walk back in the hospital and into this room as her heart literally wasn't here anymore.

Neither of them called her on it. Both understood the need to get a bit of space from the overwhelming sorrow. Frank still didn't know whether to ask her about his suspicions that she and Frankie were a couple. He wanted to give her some comfort, but he was never great at physically showing what he felt, so he just gave Maura a gentle squeeze to her shoulder and said nothing.

Oddly that bit of comfort was almost Maura's undoing. She'd been hiding from her emotions all day. She wasn't used to any real show of comfort from her parents growing up. At home they were too busy, and in public it was unseemly. Frankie had learned the hard way that she wasn't used to physical shows of affection, but he didn't let her tensing up at his hugs stop him from giving them. He just learned to hug her longer to let her relax, and he didn't seem to mind those cuddles at all. But there would be no more hugs or cuddles.

Jane's parents had already seen their daughter in recovery, but they suggested that Maura should go say hi. So once again Maura found herself being led into the Surgical ICU. She caught herself looking in at the second bed on the right, wishing she might still be back a few days before and see Frankie laying there. Instead she saw an elderly lady with a breathing mask over her mouth and nose. The pallor of her skin let Maura know that the situation for her was grave. On one hand she hoped the old lady had some loved ones around to help comfort her last moments, but she also knew what that loss of life would mean to a family now more then ever. It was odd that she was getting tired of seeing death today when that was what she did for a living.

Maura stepped into the curtained off cubicle to see Jane. She stood there not knowing what to do as Jane's eyes started to flutter open.

Jane struggled to open her eyes. Her eyelids seemed to be glued together based on the amount of effort it took to even open her eyes up enough to squint. She woke up n major pain. She was glad there was not a tube shoved down her throat this time; she was able to lick her lips to try and relieve the cracked, dry lips even though she remembered once when Maura told her that licking your lips actually chapped them more in the long run which always seemed so backwards to her. _Think of the devil_, she thought as she gazed up into the strained face of her friend. "Frankie," her voice was much deeper then her normal timbre.

Maura heard Jane say her brother's name. It wasn't a question asking how he was, but more a statement of loss, and Maura could hear the pain etched in that one word. She grabbed hold of Jane's hand and gave it a sympathetic squeeze.

Jane clutched at the hand as if it was her own lifeline. "Promise me something...promise me you will do Frankie's autopsy or at least oversee it...Please." She knew all of the men and women who worked in the Medical Examiners Office, and, even though she respected them all professionally, she still wanted the best for her baby brother.

The voice was so low that Maura had to lean over the bed rail to hear the words, granted she tried not to pull back as if burned when she heard Jane's request. Maura understood the request even though she wished Jane would ask anything else of her but that. She remembered Jane's disgust over 'The Dominator' case. Not only because it brought Charles Hoyt back out into the forefront of another investigation of Jane's, but also because she learned the repulsive fact that some who worked on the dead did so because they were necrophiliacs. "I promise."

Hearing the answer, Jane almost immediately went limp. The grip loosened and a sad smile came to her face, "Thanks." She was glad that she knew her brother would be taken care of. She knew that Maura didn't take a promise she made lightly, nor could she lie convincingly as she remembered trying to get her to lie once. Luckily it was that fun memory that played in her thoughts as sleep pulled her under, rather then the depressing moments of watching her brother die.

* * *

~ 7 weeks ago ~

The case was a harrowing one, but at least it was finally closed and the perp was locked up behind bars where he couldn't harm any more pregnant women. Both Maura and Jane were rung out and so needed the drinks that were being brought to their booth. Jane got her usual Samuel Adams, while Maura decided to get a Cosmopolitan.

The drinks were set down in front of them. Jane took a hearty gulp of hers while Maura took a satisfying sip of her pink, fruity cocktail. "Come on. Lying is often a necessary skill. Let's try for a small one. Say you're drinking a beer." Jane coached her friend. Working homicide cases taught her that lying was often needed to break down the suspect into confessing as they were needed in the case a couple months ago of the step-mother poisoning the teenage boy with monkshood.

Maura didn't want to play Jane's game, but Jane wouldn't let up and kept badgering for Maura to say she was drinking a beer. "Fine," Maura huffed out in growing annoyance, "I'm drinking be..." Her breath started coming a bit faster.

"Beer...say it with me, Maura, Beeeeer." Jane was trying not to chortle at her friend's struggle.

"Beer. See I can say it." Maura smiled, pleased with herself.

"You said the word, congratulations. Now say 'I'm drinking beer.'" Jane knew by now how Maura's brain worked enough to know she would even nitpick in her reasoning of what was a lie.

Maura rolled her eyes. "I'm drinkng bee..." Jane started laughing until Maura stole her drink and took a large swallow. Maura's voice was husky as she finally was able to spit out, "I'm drinking beer. Whoa, that stuff is strong." Jane's laughter just got louder as she shook her head at her friends' antics.

* * *

Maura's voice was husky as she squeezed Jane's hand one last time and told the silent room, "I promise."

Maura slowly walked back down the hall to the waiting area. She thought about what the promise she made to Jane would fully mean and for once was not looking forward to going into work the next day. She stepped back into the waiting area and toward the couple rather than taking a chair. "Jane woke up long enough to ask me to...um, do her a favor. I just wanted to make sure you'd be okay tonight by yourself?... Or I could stay if you want." She heard the slight tremble to her voice and swallowed down her sadness and fear.

The parents knew their daughter and knew what Dr. Isles did for the Boston Police Department, so it was easy for them to figure out what that favor was. "We'll be fine. Go get some sleep so you can be well rested to help Janie out." Angela tried not to cry as she thought of her son being cut open. She stood up and gave the women a warm hug in gratitude for all that she had done lately and would continue to do for her family.

"I'll be back tomorrow night so you both can get some sleep, too. Or if you need it earlier, the room is still booked for the next two days." She pushed herself out of the hug and stood up ramrod straight as she collected her bearings enough to fully grasp what her 'future' with Frankie would now entail. She nodded to Frank, and then turned to walk back out to her car.

She thought briefly about driving home and sleeping in her own comfortable bed that night, but she didn't want to see the empty room and think about the times she shared with Frankie there. Plus, while she knew that Frankie was beyond feeling, she felt odd sleeping and then waking up in a warm, comfortable bed knowing that he would never wake up again and was laying on a hard, metal slab in a freezer.

So once again she found herself pulling into her spot near the morgue entrance. She pulled out her keys before walking through the dimly lit garage. Before her thoughts had been on wondering why the garage at police headquarters would not be better lit, but today her thoughts were too jumbled to care. She fumbled with the keys, trying to get her brain focused enough to remember how to turn the keys in the lock. Soon she found herself entering the freezer and finding the covered shape marked with the toe tag to let her know that the body was that of Frank Rizzoli, Jr. She stared at the sheet covered body and couldn't bring herself to pull the corner of the sheet back to see the face that she loved or the glazed eyes that had often looked on her lovingly. She knew she would see more of the body than she might ever want tomorrow, and should at least try to rest so she could do her best for his parents, for Jane, for herself, but ultimately for Frankie's memory.

Maura left the autopsy suite and wandered down the hallway to her office. She didn't bother to turn on the bright, cheery light...she wasn't in the mood, and the darkness seemed to suit her much better that night. She stubbed her toe on the table as she felt her way to the couch. She thought about swearing, but the small pain helped remind her that she was at least the lucky one as she was still alive for her nerves to signal her brain. She finally reached the couch, and she fell into and curled up in the corner, clutching the small pillow tightly to her chest.

'The Queen of the Dead,' that's what many called her, and she let her mind ponder over those hurtful words as never before. She hated that kingdom of moroseness that she ruled over and wished that she wasn't that self-raised Queen of the Dead. The land she ruled had never seemed so desolate and sad until now...until someone from the Land of the Living not only found a way past the land boundaries, but had then also pierced the walls that she had so carefully constructed around her most treasured possessions: her heart, mind, and soul. But maybe that interloper was in her realm for too long. Maybe anyone venturing in would slowly become a part of her world...an army of corpses to keep out the army of living invaders. With that final thought before she fell into Morpheus's realm, she refortified her walls and barricaded herself in her erected mental tower. And she vowed never to let another soul be hurt within her tiny kingdom...herself or another.

* * *

AN: As for the drink choices, they are some of their favorites in the books as I try to pull in as much book stuff as I can. Assuming that the main reason Jane picked the lighter beer in the show was to try and pass it off as champagne because you really can't pass the dark stuff off as anything other then beer.

Let me know if I should continue this story. I have lots of ideas but it could be cleanly ended as this ties in to the first chapter with why Maura felt compelled to try and perform the autopsy. Also Happy Thanksgiving to anyone who celebrates it.


	10. Chapter 10

DISCLAIMER: I do not own this show, the books, or these characters. I only borrow them.

**Chapter 10**

A smile graced Maura Isles's lips. This was the way to wake up in the morning: warm, held tight and secure, next to the person you love. She nuzzled the person next to her as her thoughts gradually started to coalesce as she languidly came awake. She crinkled her brow in confusion wondering why her nose brushed up against a soft, carpet-like material as Frankie never wore anything like that. She took a deep breath and smelled the clean scent of Febreze and not the subtle hint of aftershave mixed with a musky scent that was all Frankie. And then the facts of yesterday slammed forcefully into place; the pleasant dream that she briefly had upon waking up was fully replaced with the nightmare that was now her reality. Frankie was dead and would never hold her tight at night anymore. The warmth and security came not from his arms, but from the warm afghan that she had pulled tightly around her shoulders sometime in the bleak night. She opened her eyes and gazed at the back of the couch rather than at her lover.

Maura thought about pulling the afghan over her head and falling back into the nicer scenario that sleep and dreaming could bring her. A quote by Theodor Seuss Geisel, a man better known as Dr. Seuss, popped into Maura's mind. "You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams." Now the only way to get that reality back was in dreams though. This was not the way she pictured realizing that, yes, it really was love that she had felt for some time. But she couldn't go back to sleep as she had a duty to do. She made a promise.

She, the lover of thought, reasoning, and rationale, missed the glaring truths that were staring her in the face these past few months. Even knowing the definition for the word love, and how it was portrayed in various cultures due to her undergrad anthropology courses, she missed seeing it in her own life. She tried not to cry as she realized the only times she even used the word love in conversations was to dispute it, when she was talking to Bass, or thinking that she loved finding the root cause of death in a baffling autopsy. So many jumbled facts and definitions whirled around in her brain, and the one to get so confused over was one that could have brought her true happiness.

Maura turned over to face her office. The hint of early morning sunlight was creeping through the slits in the closed blinds. Proof that the world kept on turning. She swallowed a scream when a song popped into her head about love making the world go round. Her parents had always like instilling art and education into their only child, and so they had season tickets to many of the theaters in the Boston area for as long as she could remember. She now could watch the song being played out in her memory from a musical called "Me and My Girl." She watched the song in full splendor, and remembered sitting snugly between her two parents. Glad for the brief time with them even if they seemed stiff in the fold down theater chairs. She almost cracked a smile at the memory until she heard the singer get to the line "And tho' people doubt it, they can't live without it." She did doubt it...for too long. And now she was stuck living without it.

The only outward sign of her anger at herself and the grief over Frankie's loss was a small punch to the couch with her left fist before she used that arm to help push herself upright. The blanket that had been snug over her shoulders now draped off them and fell to the floor as she stood up. She thought for a second about picking it up and replacing it precisely on the back of her couch, but she didn't care about the neatness of her haven today.

She stiffly walked over to her closet and opened it to see her coats and a couple pairs of shoes. Then she remembered only days before using her only spare outfit from the closet. She grumbled under her breath and grabbed the tennis shoes before nearly stomping out of the office in a fit of confused emotions that she really didn't know how to channel. She trekked down the hall and into the locker room grabbing a pair of surgical scrubs and a towel before heading in to take a hot shower.

The shower helped soothe her tense muscles, and the time under the rising steam helped her think of how she could channel her emotions. She could do her job, and do it well. By the time she had finished in the shower, dressed in the drab scrubs and tennis shoes, and pulled her hair into a high twist, her face was schooled to a calm gaze and she was ready to begin her first, and probably only autopsy of the day. She wandered back into the morgue freezer and again found the toe tag for one Frank Rizzoli Jr. She unlocked the wheels and pulled the metal table out into the well lit workspace of her autopsy suite. She could do this.

* * *

This was so not the way to wake up in the morning: in major pain, remembering the death of a loved one, and about to start a major battle. But at least she did get to wake up, kicking and screaming if need be, while her brother did not get that option anymore. Jane, still half-asleep, didn't think before she tried to turn over to get more comfortable. The idea did not work as planned as pain blossomed in her chest and seemed to cascade through all the nerve endings in her body. She heard a half-groan, half-whimper pierce the calm and realized it came from herself. She quickly tried to swallow any more sound from leaving as she told herself it was because she didn't want to wake anyone who might be dozing, but more then that...she didn't whimper. She felt the air move around her left and knew that someone had stepped close to her bed. She kept her eyes shut tightly and tried to regulate her pained breathing as she didn't want to deal with her mother; however, when she felt the strong, callused fingers of her father brushing the sweat soaked hair on her forehead, she decided it was okay to peak out at him. She opened her eyes to the mid-morning light. She looked around and noticed she was now in a private room. She wasn't sure how that came about as she bet the medical coverage for the police force didn't cover that. She saw her Ma dozing awkwardly in a nearby chair. The fact that her daughter's movements didn't wake her up attested for just how worn out she was. Jane then looked to the equally tired and heart-broken face of her father and rasped out, "Did you get any sleep?"

Frank lifted a nearby cup and straw up so his daughter could get a sip to wet her throat, "Off and on. I couldn't sleep well, and there was so much to do." He took a deep breath to swallow his own emotionally pained gasp. "I made a few phone calls and found a good funeral home near police headquarters. I thought it would be easier since Frankie had more friends near here than home." He didn't add the fact that he and his wife were all but living nearby anyway, and Jane would probably still be in the hospital around the time of the funeral so that they thought it would be easier on Jane to not have to travel far before coming back. Nor did he mention the fact that after the phone calls were made he couldn't sleep for fear. He just sat and watched his daughter sleeping to make sure that she kept breathing.

Jane finished her latest sip of water before responding, "I want to talk to the director there."

"Okay, we'll call them later. The doctor wanted to check out your sutures when you woke up, and to see how the pain is?" He shot a questioning gaze at his daughter as he pressed the call button so he could get someone to inform the doctors that Jane was now awake.

Jane heard the question in her father's voice but ignored it. She wouldn't tell anyone that she was in pain even if her life depended on it, plus it wasn't the pressing point to her currently. "No, in person. Pop, I've got to."

Frank could see from the glint in his daughter's eyes that nothing would change her mind even though he knew Angela and the doctors would try their hardest to get some sense pounded into her thick skull. And, at that point, the noise from the entering nurse woke up his wife.

That fight started brewing nicely like Jane and her father knew it would, but switched more to the scream of a boiling tea kettle soon after it began. It was Jane in one corner and her doctors and parents in the other. But Jane was stubborn and would not back down from a fight...especially this fight. Even though she had just had surgery the day before to repair some torn sutures, even though she was in extreme pain that she wouldn't admit to the doctors, even though her Ma glared and her father looked on worried, she had a duty to her little brother to make sure that he was treated with the utmost care and respect as due a Rizzoli, her brother, and a cop. Jane told the doctors either she left for good Against Medical Advice, or she would be back after she transferred her brother from the morgue to the funeral home that her parents had picked out while she was sleeping. She wanted to talk to the director there face-to-face to see if her detective 'spidey-sense' tingled. It was a good way to describe the feeling of wrongness she got about some people, and it was fun to say at least on days she could joke and smile. The doctors were not thrilled with either idea but finally told her to check back in through the emergency room so her insurance might cover her second stay thinking that it was safer for all involved than for Jane to totally leave AMA and not come back. Their one stipulation was that she use a dreaded wheelchair that they loaned her for the day. She would have to sneak in the back way at work so her fellow officers didn't joke around about the new gear or offer condolences. More for their safety on how she might react, and she feared her reaction to sympathy more. She knew how to handle jokes and to throw them back at people, sympathy she never did well with.

Finally having a hesitant okay from the doctors, Jane thought the battle was well and truly over. Her Ma firmly stated that neither she nor Frank would help her leave the hospital, but she knew others that would help her...hopefully. If she had to beg, she would in order to help her brother. "Pop, can you give me my cell phone, please ?" She knew she shouldn't use it in the hospital, but she at least needed it on long enough to get phone numbers. She thought first about calling Maura but then remembered that she was probably already busy taking care of her brother on the first leg of his journey. She hoped Frost would be willing to help her check out the other people that would be 'helping' Frankie reach his final resting place. She watched as her father got up and started to walk over to the closet where her belongings she came with to the hospital were safely secured. She wasn't expecting to also see her mother nearly run faster than Jane to block the door.

"If you want to hurt yourself more, fine. But your father and I are not going to help you." Angela glared up at her husband who was now in front of her as if daring him to go against her. Granted the look her husband shot her was more bewildered and amused.

Frank knew both the women in his life, and neither would budge when they got worked up. He knew Angela was just throwing more fuel on his daughter's fire to leave. He saw his wife about to step toward the bed and probably remove the phone that Jane was reaching for, but he reached out an arm to stop her. He met the icy glare that she shot at him and whispered, "Angie, she is going to figure out how to do this with or without us. We don't want her to hurt herself more, but she will if she has to walk herself down the hall to find a phone." He saw his wife nearly deflate as the anger drained away and left only the deep sadness that was surrounding the whole family now. He pulled his wife against him as they heard their daughter talking over the phone.

* * *

The phone on Barry Frost's desk rang as he and Korsak were about to go interview a witness to a park stabbing that happened the day before. He had already started to put his suit jacket back on when he got side tracked and somehow ended up with his right arm stuck at an odd angle within the sleeve so he answered the phone left-handed and with a more annoyed bark then usual for the calm and collected detective. "Frost, Boston Homicide..."

Before he could get out more, a well-known harsh Bostonian accent came through the phone, "Frost, can you come give me a lift? Either that or I'm walking down to headquarters."

Frost's thoughts were all over the place: why does she need a lift as the doctors should be able to help her if she fell on the floor, she had to be joking if she was already trying to come back to work, and should he be sympathetic to her as her brother just died? Granted, knowing Jane as he did, that latter thought would probably get his eardrum ruptured at the least as she yelled at him, and at worse his head would end up on a platter she decided wasn't fit for her dog, Jo. He settled for, "why are you calling me on this phone?" Not the best question, but it was safe.

He heard a deep sigh over the phone, "How many people do you know with a cell who actually remembers phone numbers anymore? Hell, I didn't even remembered the number for the precinct. I had to call information and then ask to be patched over to you. Ma refused to hand over my cell phone and make this easier on everyone."

Frost heard Angela's voice clearly over the phone. The words might have been a bit muffled to him, so he could just picture Jane's very annoyed mother screaming her reasoning, "I'm not going to help you carry out your death wish, Janie." He then heard sobs as Angela realized how that sounded after her youngest just died. A pained look covered Frost's face and he was glad to be nowhere near the hospital right now to witness the scene. He wished he didn't have to hear it either. He channeled the feelings of pain and regret to force his trapped arm through the unsuspecting, innocent sleeve.

Korsak had sat back down when Frost's phone rang. Glad for the reason to kick back and relax if even for a few seconds, but he sat up straighter as he saw the hurt look on his current partner's face. "Who's that?"

Frost covered the mouth piece before softly stating, "Someone we all know, love, and want to strangle." He turned back to the phone and heard Jane nearly pleading for him to come take her on a couple 'errands.' After he hung up the phone, he thought about banging his head against the desk before he looked back to Korsak, "How 'bout we play 'rock, paper, scissors' to see who should go pick her up?" Frost begged, not wanting to put up with an injured, pissed-off Rizzoli. Rabid Pit bulls would be safer.

Korsak just chortled, and then laughed harder at the annoyed 'he had the gall to laugh' look that Frost's face now portrayed. Korsak wondered sometimes how the younger man made such a good detective as his face showed all his emotions, and his stomach...well, it was not put up for this line of work. "Hell no. She's your partner now." He got up and slapped Frost on the back as he walked toward the locker room. As he neared the locker room, he grabbed an empty box usually used for evidence. This was the first time Korsak could remember really being glad that he wasn't partnered with Rizzoli. He hated seeing her hurt, and sadly Jane saw that empathetic look when she was injured by Hoyt and took it to be pity. It was the farthest thing from pity as it encompassed relief, amazement at the strength of his partner, and also regret that he wasn't able to protect her from being hurt in the first place. Plus, he mused, if he would be the one to help out now, Jane would probably pull even farther away from him as he'd have seen her in pain twice now. But if Frost did then they could rally against her in solidarity, even if not the bonding moment he would have wished for in order to help Jane. But there was no one else on the force who would put up with her, so now she would be stuck with one of them, even if she thought they saw her as weak. She would learn to handle it. She always did.

So while Frost got 'Jane detail' while their partner was being hard-headed and wouldn't stay in the hospital as was best for her, Korsak decided to be helpful and clean out Frankie's locker. It would be one less duty for Jane to feel obligated to do, and she could have the contents when she was ready to see them and hopefully not fall apart into pieces. Well, okay, he knew Jane enough to know that she would play tough cop and struggle not to cry even if her heart was being torn to pieces. Korsak was annoyed with himself because he was glad for that tough girl routine...he never did know how to deal with a crying female. That was one thing he loved about being partnered with Jane, she would always nudge him out of the way when a compassionate presence was needed. Not that Jane did well with the compassionate, empathetic side as she was so used to being tough-as-nails, but hell, anyone was better at it than he was. _But who will be her compassionate presence now?_ he thought.

Korsak opened up the tiny metal cubicle. He was glad that Frankie's locker was on the top row and not the bottom. He wasn't as young as he used to be and so was glad that he didn't need to bend over. He pulled out the normal stuff one would think to find in a male officer's locker: spare uniform in case the first would get messed up at a crime scene, deodorant, comb, and a pair of sweats and tennis shoes to work out in the precinct gym. He pulled out a canister of shoe polish to keep the uniform shoes nice and shiny, and he added that to growing collection of articles in the file box he brought with him. Korsak was very happy to be a detective so he didn't need to wear his uniform daily, granted he knew he would need to shine up his shoes and pull out the uniform again this week for yet another funeral.

With the main articles relocated to the box, Korsak looked to the pieces of paper stuck to the locker door. Most all cops had pictures of family and friends on their locker door, or in their desk drawer if their were lucky enough to have a desk. It gave the cops something to look at and say 'I love you' to before they would go on a tough case, hoping that picture wouldn't be the last time they saw their loved ones. Those glimpses of frozen smiling faces reminded the officer what they were fighting for, either when protecting the community or if they would need to fight for their own lives.

Korask saw a picture of the whole Rizzoli clan and he smiled at it as he could see from the picture that Angela Rizzoli was having a hard time corralling her grown children and telling them to knock it off and smile at the camera. He plucked off the magnet holding it to the locker and moved on to the next picture. The next picture showed just Frankie and Jane on his first day as a rookie. Korsak remembered the day clearly as Jane enjoyed picking on the new rookie relentlessly. _Hell she still does_ he thought before he sobered and changed the working to 'did'. With his mind a bit preoccupied with that depressing thought, he didn't see the bit of paper sticking out from behind the picture of the duo. As he pulled the magnet off the smaller hidden object fluttered to the ground. It was ironic that his glee over Frankie having a top locker was dashed as he was still stuck having to bend over. What he saw when he picked the object up almost sent him back to the floor in shock. Instead he was lucky to be able to nearly crash onto the bench beside the file box full of Frankie's possessions, at least all but this final object.

Two small images from a torn photo booth stripe of pictures- the top picture showing Frankie gazing lovingly at Dr. Isles while she smiled at the camera, and the other picture an odd mirrored image with Maura gazing just as intently at Frankie as he finally looked forward. Korsak stared at the pictures and cursed the new twist in this morose situation. He needed to get some clarification, and he knew that Maura was the only one with the answers he sought.

He took the now full box of belongings and placed it on his desk before heading over to the elevators to take the short ride down to see if Dr. Isles was available to talk. He walked slowly down the hall near the morgue and peeked into the autopsy suite. Oddly he saw two of Maura's colleagues working on Frankie, but then he glanced back at the pictures he held and he now understood so much that had happened in the last week in this new context. He knocked on the closed office door and heard a soft feminine voice telling him to enter. He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him, and before either could say anything to each other he took a seat across from the Doc and placed the pictures in front of her. He saw Maura gaze down at the pictures and the sadness mixed with happy memories that briefly shown over her face before she schooled her features to her usual cool manner. Those few moments and the pictures told him more then any words could, and he against found himself mentally cursing the sad turn of events in all their lives.

* * *

AN: First, sorry for the long delay. Will try not to make a repeat of that but no promises :). Also Korsak was the only one who could learn now. All the other scenes are written when the others learn. Jane will be the next... but not for about 1-2 months story time. But at least Maura will have someone she can talk to. Even if Korsak thinks he can't do compassionate.


	11. Chapter 11

DISCLAIMER: I do not own this show, the books, or these characters. I only borrow them.

**Chapter 11**

Maura heard the rap on the door and was surprised that her colleagues were already finished working on Frankie. "Come in," she looked back at her computer screen and an old case file that was about to go to court. She was fully engrossed back in the technical words and didn't look up as someone neared her desk, "Just sit it down and I'll look at it in a minute." She did not want anyone around to witness the emotions that her face might betray when she read what caused Frankie's death. She was not expecting to hear a deep, harsh sigh as someone dropped into the seat across from her desk. She was not expecting two small pictures to be placed in front of her rather than the file she was expecting. Neither Korsak nor Maura said anything to the other as he sat back quietly and she looked at the frozen images. The emotions that she dreaded showing over an autopsy report were nothing compared to what she thought was showing on her face as she clearly remembered the day the pictures were taken.

* * *

~ 5 weeks earlier ~

The pair loved finding new ways to share who they were with each other. From just talking, or spending times curled up in each other's arms, and even using their weekend time to add some 'show' to their normal 'tell'. This weekend was both exciting and nerve-wracking for Maura, as it was Frankie's turn so she had no control over her weekend. And as she was not on-call this weekend, she knew that their would be no 'saved-by-the-bell' if the activities were not to her liking. Not knowing what the day might entail, Maura dressed casually.

Frankie arrived at her house in Brookline. As he parked and walked toward her front door, he thought about the last time he was here. Two weeks earlier was her chance to show him a bit of her world, but he wasn't here to have another etiquette lesson. Instead he was picking her up to go have a fun day out. With neither of them on-call this weekend, he was even able to plan a small road trip which he had been looking forward to. Maura opened the door and stepped out with some designer purse slung over her right arm and her keys in her hand to lock the door behind her.

Frankie's first thought on seeing his girl was that she was gorgeous. He wished he would have given voice to that first thought before he voiced the second, "I thought I warned you to dress casually?"

"This is casual."

He looked at the black slacks with crisp pressed seams, some designer shirt that probably cost more then his last paycheck, and high heels. Granted she did seem a tad shorter then usual so he assumed the heels weren't as tall as normal. Not that he would really know about shoes. She was in slacks over her usual dresses so he guessed it was casual for her. These outings were definitely needed to help show the other who they were and what they thought about the world. And so the first stop would be to a nearby mall so he could help explain to Maura about his idea of the word "casual".

At least the mall he could see as even footing. She could find some name-brand pair of jeans and shirt that would flatter her well-shaped figure. Most of his clothes even now he still got from various second hand-stores and thrift shops, as to him clothes were clothes. But to Maura he knew they were more of an art form, and he couldn't imagine her any other way. It was just one more aspect of her that he was totally besotted with.

As he pulled into the mall parking lot Maura's curiosity finally got the better of her, "So what are we doing here?"

"First, we need to find something a bit more casual for you." He pointed down to his own outfit of jeans, Red Sox t-shirt, and tennis shoes. Over the next hour and a half, Frankie learned why he hated malls. It took over 5 stores, nearly two hours, and more money then Frankie had spent on clothing in his entire life for Maura to come out dressed a bit more casually than she had started out. She was wearing a brown pair of penny loafers, and he learned the entire history behind the term as she was purchasing them. His clothing education was continued as he learned about ¾ sleeved shirts after his comment that the sleeves on the forest green v-neck shirt that Maura fell in love with were a bit too short for her. He went on to show his ignorance as he commented that his Ma could let them out for her as she had lots of practice mending clothes with three rambunctious kids. As they were leaving the mall though he marveled that the jeans hugged her in all the right places. He was trying not to drool as he watched her walking back toward the exit near where he had parked.

Maura was used to Frankie's walking beside her and chatting with her. Well, often just listening to her as she rambled away at some fact she knew. So she looked back to see where he had wandered off to. She wasn't expecting to turn around and see him not-so-subtlety checking out her rear end. She watched as he came to a stop and then glanced around at all the stores around her as if almost afraid to look up at her.

He almost bumped into Maura as he wasn't paying all that much attention to the walking...well, at least not his walking. He quickly looked around to try and pretend that he was looking at anything other then where he was looking. He moved his gaze back to Maura, hoping to not see her livid over his wandering eyes before and was pleased to note a self-satisfied smirk on her face, and her eyes were shining brighter then normal. He smiled at her and then pointed to the photo booth to his left he saw while trying to act nonchalant. He wanted to try it out even though his last pictures in one turned out to be with a brain-washed killer. But with 'Lola' he had a crush, with Maura it was so much more than that. Even if she wasn't ready to tell the world yet, he at least wanted something so they could remember their time together.

He placed the money into the machine and pulled Maura into the tiny space beside him. He watched as the love of his life seemed to size up the bench to determine if it was safe to sit on. He smiled as he stared at her. He bet she was thinking about all the diseases that could be on common use seats. And from the looks of the booth with the sticky spilled soda on the ground and the wads of bubble gum here and there, he was sure it was awhile since the seat was wiped down. But he watched as she sat down trying not to cringe as she smiled at the camera. He saw the flash out of the corner of his eye and realized the proof of his blatant staring was now frozen in a small black and white photo. He looked forward and smiled at the camera so he wouldn't miss the next one.

Maura looked dubiously at the little bench for them to sit on, but finally squeezed in and faced the camera. She saw a bright flash and then turned to glance at the man beside her. She felt so strongly for him, she just wished she understood emotions enough to know if it was really love as he seemed certain of, or if it was more fleeting like the lust and companionship that she found with her ex-husband. She saw the flash out of the corner of her eye and realized she missed the second picture which would show her staring not at the camera but at the dashing man beside her.

Before she could look forward again, she watched as Frankie turned to steal a glance at her. Their eyes locked and both were to engrossed in gazing at each other that they both missed the third picture entirely. They both turned to look in the camera for the final shot. They tried to smile sweetly, but they were both laughing too hard to tone it down to the stilted pictures that Maura was so used to seeing.

They almost fell out of the booth laughing, and Frankie grabbed the picture strip that had finished developing. He saw the top two pictures and mused at how alike they were in some regards. Granted, not shopping. He just wished Maura could see it too. He thought about letting her have those pictures and maybe she would start to see it, but he knew she needed the last picture. He had seen the family portraits hanging in the hallway or on the mantle at her house with the plastered on smiles. He knew she needed this picture to remember the fun that they brought out in each other. He tore the paper in two and handed her the bottom half.

She reverently placed the pictures in her wallet until she could find a safer place for them.

* * *

Maura opened up her desk drawer and lifted up the corner of her desk organizer to pull out her two treasured pictures. She placed them on the desk, slightly below Frankie's half. She just wished she could have repaired the tear in her heart as well as she could line up the rip in the pictures. And even if she had a cardiothoracic surgeon on hand, she knew that he would not be able to find the ultimate source of the bleeding. She always thought people who used the term heart-broken were ignorant on human anatomy; she wished she could have kept that point of view rather than learning so well what it really meant. She tried to bring her emotions under control before sending a questioning glance toward the pudgy detective across from her

Vince looked around the room in the brief moments that Maura was lost in thought. He saw through eyes which viewed evidence and facts more than the warm, inviting workplace that Maura had created in her office. He saw the blanket crumpled on the floor by the couch rather than folded and placed precisely on the back of it. He saw that the normally impeccably dressed Maura Isles was wearing scrubs and her hair was severely pulled back. He saw that past the thin layer of make-up that Maura was able to come up with from her purse and desk drawer to see the dark bags developing under her eyes, and even more pronounced to him was the redness and puffiness that showed that she cried often when no one was around to notice. To think under everyone's eyes, she was starting to have a life outside of her morgue, and now, with that snuffed out, she was even sleeping here.

Korsak watched as Maura reached into her desk and then placed the last two pictures together with Frankie's two. Even seeing the images upside down he was able to see how happy the pair appeared. He saw the sad, slight smile that Maura gave to the smiling Frankie in the photos. He saw a couple tears bead up in the corner of the Doc's eyes before she quickly reached up to brush them away. He knew that she would have mentioned allergies or something to cover for the tears if he would have asked about them. He saw her reach a shaky hand out to touch the small black and white images, but seemed to think better of it and so clasped her hands together on top of her desk before finally gazing at Korsak. He could see the questions glimmering in those eyes, but he had questions of his own starting with, "Jane didn't know, did she?"

"And why would you think that?"

Answering a question with another question, common stall tactics, and he knew he would be able to out maneuver Maura if she was a suspect, but she wasn't one, she was a hurting colleague and, he hoped, friend. Today she still spoke with the gruff, no-nonsense tone, but at least Korsak understood where the attitude was coming from. "Jane might be a bitch at times...okay, often," he grinned to the Doc when she didn't defend their friend and partner as they both knew her attitude too well. Both had often been on the receiving end when she was pissed off and on the war path for anything that stood in her way. He waited a moment as he saw a corner of Maura's mouth turn up in an understanding half-smile, and then he threw out his reasoning that would have made any jury understand with it's well thought out and heated delivery. He pointed in the general direction of the autopsy suite, "..but she's not heartless. She never would have asked you to perform Frankie's autopsy is she knew. She's not that cruel." He didn't raise his voice in anger as he did so often when defending Detective Rizzoli and her methods to the Brass, but the passion behind his words was there all the same. He saw the hurt look quickly pass Maura face, and, before she could berate herself too much, he continued his thoughts in a more soothing voice. "You really should tell Jane and her family. They would want to know."

His earlier tone along with his penetrating gaze pierced the words all the way to Maura's heart, and she couldn't help but feel slighted. But she also knew that Korsak was right, Jane would be hurt if she knew how painful her request to Maura really was. To her mind it was just one more reason on top of so many for why she knew telling the family would be painful. "I can't. It would just hurt them. Especially right now. They have enough to deal with."

She thought she was protecting them, but Korsak wondered if Maura was just protecting herself. Either way it was not his place to tell. Maura could be more pig-headed than Jane at times, so he knew that now was not a time to push her, so he decided to leave her to her own thoughts again. He reached forward and picked up the pictures he found in Frankie's locker to keep hold of for whenever the family did learn. He heard Maura clear her throat, but before she could try to object about him taking the pictures he promised, "I'll keep hold of it so some day Frankie's family can have everything from his locker. I'll hide it in my desk drawer rather than in the box of belongings, okay." It wasn't a question. He wasn't really giving her a choice.

Korsak stood up and started to the door, but then turned back for one last comment. "I don't like this situation," he grumbled, "I don't like having to lie to Jane."

"I'm not asking you to lie, Vince. If Jane asks you if Frankie was seeing anyone you can tell her, okay?"

The Doc was sure dense sometimes, or at least pretended to be. Like Jane would come out and ask that question, and he had a feeling that Maura knew damn well that scenario was not likely to play out. He thought briefly about telling Jane there were incriminating photos in Frankie's locker, but she would probably assume they were some swimsuit calendar at best and would not want to know details. Jane once told Korsak that Maura said she couldn't lie and would pass out if she did. It was a good thing Dr. Isles did not consider lies of omission to count or she would be conked out for a long time. And there would be no fairy tale ending. No Prince Charming to ride up and kiss her awake...No Prince Charming at all anymore. The full clarity of the situation was revealed then—no good guy, no bad as he knew what to do with as a cop, just hurt individuals who were each coping the best they could with a crappy situation. With Korsak stuck firmly in the middle knowing that the family would want to know, but also that the private Doc would want to guard those memories zealously. Shit. That was all he could think as he walked out the office door. No, it was really Frankie stuck in the middle, and, not being able to blame a dead man, Korsak decided to wander over to some of his buddies in narcotics and see if there was anyone who he could beat some sense into...not physically, of course, because IAB would not be happy with that.

While he was thinking about IAB, he stuck his head back into Maura's office. "By the way, Doc, I heard that IAB is sending a couple investigators back our way in a few hours to get more statements now that Marino is awake at the hospital. Guess they are hoping to finish all in one go, so I'd be watching out for them too if I were you now that you're back." Now he understood why Maura had been here more recently rather than at the hospital with her friend... she had already lost more there than most realized.

Maura thought the day couldn't get any worse. She knew better than to even think that statement though as it always tempted fate. Without even getting a 10 minute repose after Korsak informed her that he knew about her and Frankie, another light knock sounded at her door. She was tempted to ignore the entire world outside of that door, but she knew someone would just intrude...probably Korsak trying to kick down said door. She quickly put her pictures back in her desk as she again told the person outside her office to enter and place the file on her desk. She looked up only long enough to thank him for the file.

She tried to go back to reading the file on her computer, but her mind wouldn't focus as the papers to her left seemed to be shouting for her attention. She grabbed the file up and quickly walked out the door and down the hallway to the autopsy suite where she watched as the last few sutures were placed to close up the Y-incision. She walked over to stand by Frankie as Yoshima finished up and then walked over to the sink to start cleaning the tools. She glanced at the clean work her assistant did as she was afraid to stare too long at Frankie's pale face. She knew the image she would see was nothing like the smiling face that was frozen both in her mind in brilliant color and also in black and white in tiny pictures in her desk. She just wished she would have been able to see the dazzling smile she knew he would have given her when she said yes. She fingered the ring that was settled between her breasts under the drab scrub suit and felt such grief over waiting too long. She whispered so quietly even though she felt like wailing, "I'm so sorry, Frankie."

"Did you say something, Dr. Isles?"

Maura swiped the tear from her cheek and replaced the sorrow with anger at herself for forgetting that she wasn't alone in the room. "No, nothing." She pulled the sheet up and, after a brief glance, covered the face. She knew she would see it only once more, staring up from a gilded wooden box.

She walked over to the side table and sat down on the wheeled medical stool. Finally she took a deep breath and opened the report in front of her. Written in black and white was the cause of death. Just as she had expected from her brief glance in his chest cavity as she started to weigh the internal organs. Cause of death was a pulmonary embolism. Looking at the veins in the legs showed that it started out as a deep vein thrombosis that broke off and then traveled to the lung. The blood clot was probably caused by either complications from surgery or from the prolonged immobilization of the legs as was often the case. But all knew the key cause of death was that initial gunshot to his abdomen, and even the bullet proof vest was not able to protect him entirely.

Maura knew the statistics and causality. She knew that PE was the third most common cause of death in hospitalized patients. But with the patient not waking up, the main symptoms of chest pains and shortness of breath couldn't be commented on if there were any symptoms at all. And Frankie was so like his sister. He wouldn't have complained about pain anyway. She knew the nurses checked his legs often for swelling and warmth, so she knew the fault didn't rest with them, but still on Marino who was the ringmaster of this whole incident.

She signed the report. She never thought it would be so painful just to write her name.

* * *

AN: Thanks for the wonderful reviews. Hit the big 3-0, yay! They help keep me writing :) Merry Christmas!


	12. Chapter 12

DISCLAIMER: I do not own this show, the books, or these characters. I only borrow them.

**Chapter 1**2

Frost pulled under the overhang at the main entrance of the hospital. He knew that Jane would already be nearby. He was running a couple minutes late from their designated meeting time as another detective waylaid him on his way out of the precinct. The question over a home robbery and lethal shooting took longer than he expected, and just reaffirmed that guns, especially in the wrong hands, took way too many lives. He had seen too many good men lose their lives in the last week because of guns, drugs, and greed. But there he was, stepping out of his car with his police issued Glock secured at his waist.

Without looking toward the doors, he knew that his partner was coming closer to the vehicle. Not through some sixth sense that seemed to develop between some long-term partners, but because he could hear her complaining loudly the whole way as the nurse pushed her in the wheelchair. "I can walk the last ten feet to the car, you know." He tried to stifle the grin that was threatening to overtake his face, but it was no use. At times hearing Jane complain could get on a saint's nerves, but it was great that she was awake now to be able to complain. Jane fighting, physically and verbally, was common. Her still and silent figure, first on the ground after being shot and then lying in the hospital bed, was scary as it was so far from the normal vibrant woman who was his partner.

He rounded the back of the car and finally saw the still much too pale Jane. He rushed forward to open the passenger side door. He saw the pain in Jane's eyes and wondered briefly which pain was worse, the emotional pain from losing her brother or the physical pain from her own injuries. Quickly he realized it didn't matter as either way she was struggling not to show what to her was weakness, so he tried to ignore the pained gasps and groans as the nurse helped transfer Jane from the chair to the front seat. He didn't offer to help yet. He knew he would need to help more than Jane would prefer once they reached their destination. He was glad when the nurse leaned over and worked on securing the seat belt on his partner as he was able to walk away from the door. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he felt a lone tear break free from his eye and start the long trek down his cheek. He quickly swiped it away and tried to shove down his emotions as he went to the now empty wheelchair. He took out the remaining anger and worry on the chair as he forcefully tried to make the chair smaller so it would fit in his backseat.

The nurse stepped back from the now secured patient and watched as the tall, dark, handsome gentleman tried to force the wheelchair into submission. She tried not to laugh as she walked over and grabbed the middle of the cloth seat and pulled up. Easily accomplishing what the man was struggling to figure out. She saw an embarrassed blush on his cheeks as he grabbed the chair and shoved it in the backseat. As he shut the metal and cloth contraption in his car, she reached into her shirt pocket and pulled out a small packet. Once she noticed the man's attention was back on her she instructed, "If you see any bleeding make sure to get her back ASAP or call for an ambulance. There are two pills in here," she said passing over the packet. "Jane said she didn't want any pain medication to dull her, but after a bit of movement she probably will whether she says so or not. So make sure she takes them both."

Jane might have complained about wanting to walk for Frost's sake, but she was secretly glad to now have the soft cushioned car seat under her. She closed her eyes against the pain and listened to the nurse and Frost talking. She wasn't able to see what the pair was doing. She already struggled to deal with the pain of moving and sitting upright, so she wasn't about to try turning around to look. Even the thought of reaching up to move the car mirrors to look sent a twinge of pain through her body so she just sat still and listened. But even with the pain she was already in, she knew she wouldn't want those pills she heard the nurse mention. She nearly growled, "I don't want any pain pills." Jane couldn't see the grins that her words caused the nurse and her partner.

Frost was too afraid to say anything else that Jane might hear and complain about. Not because he couldn't deal with her complaining, but because the normality of it might cause him to laugh out loud. He took the packet and nodded as he placed it in his right pants pocket. He walked over to the still open passenger door, and, seeing that all of Jane's limbs were safely in the car, he firmly shut the door. He hurried around to the driver's side and hopped in. The sooner they started on this foolhardy adventure, the sooner it would be over and Jane could be back where she belonged. As he started the car and pulled away from the entrance he turned a quick glance over at his abnormally pale partner. "Are you sure you're up for this?"

Jane didn't even open her eyes as she griped back, "Just drive."

So Barry just drove in silence until they reached their first destination. He pulled into the nearest handicap space to the ramp leading up to the front door of the funeral home. While his plate wasn't designated for these spots, he was glad for the Fraternal Order of Police insignia on his license plate. No one would dare write a ticket on an injured officer, especially one trying to bury a slain officer.

Jane looked toward the long winding wheelchair ramp as she and Frost figured out how to get her transferred from the car seat to the wheelchair. She thought the ramp would be too long of a walk for someone with a cane or walker, but she was grateful that it was long enough to give her time to breathe through the pain while Frost was behind her pushing the chair forward. No wonder her grandparents would cringe when going out with the family as she and Tommy thought racing the occupied wheelchairs was great fun. The fact that the elder Rizzolis never cursed or yelled at their grandkids should have gotten them sainted. If every bump that Frost took delicately caused so much jarring, she could only image what going fast was like on the frail boned bodies of her elders.

When they reached the top of the ramp, Frost came in front of the chair to open then door and then stared questioning as the door closed again before he rounded to the back of the chair. Jane saw the puzzled frown on Frost's face. "Going backwards through a door is easiest." She remembered trying to pop her grandfather, Aldo Rizzoli, over a doorjam once and almost dumped him out of the chair as the smaller front wheels touched down. She tried not to curse out loud as Frost pulled her backwards over the small bump in the door frame. The jostling of the chair brought tears to her eyes.

The elderly gentleman that came out of a side room to talk to them saw the tears, but he saw many tearful faces in his line of work. He reached out a wrinkled hand to Jane, but his grip as he shook her hand was anything but weak. "Hello, my dear, I'm Mr. Dodson," he gave her a compassionate smile as he pointed to a small nearby sitting area usually used for grieving families. "Why don't we go sit over here and talk a bit?"

Frost positioned Jane in the wheelchair to face a small loveseat and chair set up before he gratefully sat down on the floral loveseat. Mr. Dodson sat on the plush wingback chair and grabbed up some papers that were sitting on a small side table. "Your father called me to let me know you were coming to ask some questions about this place, but I was hoping you would let me fill you in on some of the plans that your father and I talked about early this morning."

Jane was a bit taken aback by his forward thinking and compassionate tone that she found herself just nodding an affirmative.

"First off, we talked about how many people your father thought might come to the viewing. Seeing that your brother was a police officer, I know there will be a large crowd in and out, so I told your father about our larger viewing area." With this Mr. Dodson opened up a brochure for the funeral home and pointed to a picture of a large, well-lit wood paneled room with plenty of seating facing a coffin and various flower arrangements. "There is a back removable wall if we need to open up a larger area."

He paused to see if the injured woman sitting next to him would have any questions at this point, but she was still gazing at the picture. Her eyes zooming in to the closed coffin in the picture. "We talked about what type of coffin he would prefer. Your father didn't want anything too fancy, just a basic wood casket with simple lining. But he did mention cherry wood would be preferred as he mumbled something about pie."

For the first time since they sat down together, Jane finally spoke up even though she didn't take her gaze off of the picture. There was a small smile on her lips as she thought about the reference. "Frankie loves cherry pie. It's his favorite dessert, even though he will swear on his life that his favorite is really Ma's cannolis." Her chuckle died out as she realized what she said. Frankie didn't have a life left to swear on. She closed her eyes tightly to prevent fresh tears from falling. She would not be able to blame them on physical pain should they fall. The truth of the matter was sinking in so much clearer with this trip. Maybe she should have stayed on the pain meds at the hospital. That way she could at least still dream for a few more moments that she'd still get to see her baby brother wake up and start their usual banter.

Not wanting to make the young woman feel uncomfortable, Mr. Dodson went on. "Your father requested that if people called to ask about where to send flowers that I let them know that the family would prefer for a donation to be made in their son's name to the Boston Children's Foundation as your brother really liked what they stood for. I also mentioned setting up a box so people could put donations if they felt so moved. Do you any questions for me, my dear?"

Jane pondered the question for only moments before remembering meeting a shifty mortuary beautician by the name of Joey Valentine during 'The Dominator' case who made her want to come ask questions in the first place. "Have you done a background check on whoever fixes up the...bodies." She was a bit surprised to see an odd grin come to the old man's face.

"I've never had her checked out. But, if it would make you feel better, you can. Granted, I've known her all her life and the most trouble I've known her to be in was when she cut school in high school to go watch a movie with her friends." At the questioning glance from Jane he added, "She's my daughter, Cindy. But you can check her out. I don't think you would even find a parking ticket in her name."

Jane knew that often parents were blind to what their children might get up to, but she saw the sincerity behind the old man's eyes and even the fierce belief that he had in his daughter. "No, that's okay. I'll take your word for it." She saw Frost do a double take at that as he had never known Jane to take someone at their word.

They continued to talk for a few more minutes. Mr. Dodson seemed genuinely kind and caring and listened to her concerns about her brother's treatment. Maybe Jane would have been more on edge around the man if he was trying to sell her anything, but her father had already let those working here know what he wanted for his son. As Frost stood up and rounded the wheelchair so they could leave, the older man patted Jane's hand , "I'm truly sorry for your loss, my dear."

Jane saw the truth behind his kind words. Later she wouldn't remember much of the meeting, but she would never forget the sincerity of the man she met. He was not putting on a show as a salesman, but was just the caring personality of the eccentric Mr. Dodson. In different circumstances Jane felt she would have loved to get to know the tiny gentleman, but there wasn't much to love in this current situation.

With the funeral home passing Jane Rizzoli's exacting standards, it was time to leave. Again the harsh movements as they exited the building seared her damaged lung and pulled at the newer sutures. She could taste a hint of blood as she had literally tried to bite back any sound of discomfort. Her thoughts were so hazy from the pain that she didn't even remember Frost helping her transfer to the car. She was in so much pain she actually thought of asking for the relief disguised as two tiny pills in Frost's pocket. She wouldn't wish this pain on anyone, but that thought was quickly modified. She would wish this pain on her brother if it would mean he was alive and would heal. While she wouldn't want to see him in pain, it would be better than what she knew she would see in a few days at his funeral.

The thought of seeing her brother at the funeral brought a new fear to her mind. Jane feared seeing her lifeless brother and how she might react to that. He died in front of her so it wouldn't be a surprise that he was dead, but he would look so different: the paler skin, the lack of shine in his hair, to the closed eyes that would never 'smile' back at her. "Do you mind a quick side trip to check in with Dr. Isles?" She needed a chance to see her brother without all the gawkers that would be at the viewing or funeral. She needed a chance to say goodbye without worrying that she might break down in front of strangers, or worse, fellow cops.

"Sure. No problem. Just let me make a quick stop for gas." He heard the pain behind her words and knew that Jane could use a few moments to compose herself before seeing even more people.

Jane opened her eyes a bit and peeked over at the gas gauge. She tried not to smirk as the needle was only slightly past the half empty mark. Frost was as easy to read as a book, but she was grateful for his thoughtfulness.

Frost pulled into a nearby gas station and took his time filling the tank. He then washed the windows and wandered inside in order to give Jane some additional time and space alone. He browsed through the myriad array of junk food before ending up near the coolers. He grabbed a bottle of water, hoping that he could persuade Jane to take the pain pills. Looking out the window, he saw that Jane seemed to be having a heated discussion over her cell phone. He put down his loot and made a pit stop to the restroom hoping that Jane wouldn't still look so murderous in a moment, but when he came out he he knew that she was even angrier. He had stayed in as long as he really could under the guise of getting a drink and candy bar. He just hoped that she kept her rage at the person over the phone and not at the person closest to her as he got back in the driver's seat.

* * *

While Frost paid and pumped the gas, and then washed the windows, Jane kept her eyes closed and leaned back into the comfortable seat. She took a few shallow breaths as she worked on closing out the pain even knowing that it would come back stronger later. As the pain was pushed into a box to deal with later, other thoughts of tasks to perform pushed their way forward. She thought she would start at the worst and work her way to more pleasant tasks – calling her remaining brother so she could soon get back to the hospital and the painless promise of sleep.

She carefully got her cell phone out of her jeans pocket and found the new number that her father had programmed into her phone a few days ago. She hit the send button and heard the phone ring, once, twice. She hoped that her brother might not answer the phone, but that was not to be. On the fourth ring she heard a gruff male voice, "Rizzoli."

"That's my name, don't wear it out."Iit was a good opening considering her mind blanked for what she wanted to say.

"Hey sis. How's it going?"

That wasn't good. He sounded much too happy to know what was going on. Jane briefly thought that her brother might be drunk as he was a happy, goofy guy then. But he also would slur his words horribly if that was the case. _Shit_. Jane hated telling people in her job that family members had died. She really didn't want to have to do that her for own family. _How does the asshole not know?_ "Has Ma or Pop tried to contact you recently?" She was sure they would have.

"Well, yeah. A few times this week." Tommy sounded a bit guilty at that question. "But come on sis, you know how Ma is. She tried to call soon after I told her I wasn't coming home. I couldn't take a guilt trip. It was bad enough listening to her crying that I needed to call her on the messages. My mind was made up about staying here."

"It's always about you, isn't it?" Jane took a deep breath and then said the next words harshly trying not to yell. "She was calling to tell you that Frankie and I were shot."

"Oh." There was a long pause and all Jane could think was that knowing her brother and his recent stint in jail, he probably had no love lose for injured cops, even if they were family. "Well hell, it couldn't be too bad as your up and yelling at me already."

If Tommy thought that her words before were yelled, he had another think coming. Not caring about the pain the forceful exhalation would cause, Jane finally did yell, "I'm only UP to check out the funeral home that Pop picked for Frankie." She was so blinded by rage and had her ears listening for the next stupid words to come out of her older brother's mouth that she didn't notice the wary look a woman shot the car as she passed on her way into the gas station nor did she hear the dog in the truck two parking spaces over that started barking at her raised voice.

The only words that came back over the phone was a muffled,"Damn it."

There was a louder thud and Jane wondered what her brother might have kicked or punched. But she also heard the hurt emotions in those two words from her brother and felt herself feeling sorry for Tommy having to learn so harshly over the phone. She lowered her voice, all the fight having been knocked out of her, "You should have called Ma back." Hell, he should have done a lot of things, starting with coming home and at least seeing his sibling again... while he still could.

The pair fell into a dragged out silence until Jane finally broke it, "The funeral is in three days. The viewing is the day before. I'm not sure Ma will let me out of the hospital until the actual funeral, but I will at least see you then." She was glad that the phone call seemed to be winding down as he was tiring to deal with even when she was at full health.

Tommy finally found his voice again, "Umm...I just started the program at the halfway house, and you know as well as I do that now, since I set up where I'm staying with my parole officer, that I can't really leave the county. I don't want my parole revoked."

Jane couldn't believe what she was hearing, even though she didn't know why it shocked her so much as Tommy only ever cared about Tommy. He never cared about following the rules, so she was annoyed that he used those as just his latest excuse in letting the family down. "I'm sure you could work it out as it's a family emergency. Let your parole officer know that you'll be surrounded by police, so it's not like you'd be able to break any of the main rules. Hell, maybe one of those officers would write a note on your good behavior to put in your folder to try to shorten your probationary period." At that point she was being sarcastic, but her brother seemed to miss the tone change as she was talking.

"Really?"

As usual, with a nice pay out, Tommy finally started to ponder if the pay out was worth his trouble. Jane was passed pissed. She didn't yell, but spoke in an icy tone that was more scary to anyone who knew her. "You know what? Never mind." And she pulled the phone away from her ear so she could hang up.

Before she got a chance to push the appropriate button, she heard the irritating voice of her brother. "Hey, Janie, can you put my name on the flowers from the family? I'm kinda strapped for cash still..."

Finally she cut the call short. She couldn't deal with the ramblings of her only living sibling.


	13. Chapter 13

DISCLAIMER: I do not own this show, the books, or these characters. I only borrow them.

**Chapter 13**

Jane was tight-lipped when Frost got back in his car, both about the caller on the phone and about taking the medication that Frost tried to hand over. But she did graciously accept the Snickers bar and the bottle of water, well, as graciously as one could who mumbled about hospital slop between bites as she nearly inhaled the sugary snack.

When they neared police headquarters, Frost decided to drive in the back way not knowing how Jane might react with passing the place where she was shot. He parked near the rear entrance to the morgue to not only bypass the front door and the bit of sidewalk where her blood was spilled, but also to bypass the majority of people who would want to say hello and give well wishes to their fellow officer. While Frost knew that most could do with the good news of Jane's slowly recovering as they had lost too many good men lately, he knew that it wouldn't be beneficial to his partner.

Jane again transferred to the borrowed wheelchair. Without even trying this time, her mind wandered away from the fact of being helped around. As much as she didn't want to think about what to her was an embarrassing situation, she would have preferred that to where her mind took her. As Frost pushed her through the wide bay doors, her thoughts weren't even on the dead bodies like her brother who would be wheeled through this path on a gurney. Instead her mind jumped to the other living people who had used this often forgotten entrance. First Maura's biological father had his men kidnap his daughter while Jane, Frost, and Korsak sat watching the front entrance and thinking for far too long that Maura was safely cocooned in her working playground. That time wasn't enough to teach her. She should have realized that SWAT would have checked all entrances to try and get the hostages out as Maura had begrudgingly told her a few days after the fact. Jane could have taken more time with Marino at the main entrance and let the hostage negotiator do his work. But no, Jane always preferred to go full tilt at anything or anyone who dared threaten her... or worse, her friends and family.

Did her quick actions make matters worse? Frankie was already getting help through the morgue entrance so she didn't need to clear the front entrance for another cavalry to run to her brother's rescue. But with her actions, the critically injured count jumped from one to three. She didn't care about what might have happened to Marino, but the doctors would just see an injured man they needed to help rather then a evil man who caused the death and injuries of too many. With the seriousness of their wounds, they probably all needed a team of surgeons so would there have been enough surgeons to go around. Would there have been enough to share? Probably not as she had always been horrible at sharing with her brother. That almost briefly brought a slight smile to Jane's face thinking of battles at the dinner table for the last cannoli, or even who would get to cuff the perp when they were at the same crime scene, but there would be no more fun-filled petty bickering for them.

Who knew how many cardio-thor-or-something surgeons were out there? Maura had already briefly stabilized her brother. What if because of her wounds they took her on back and had to call in other surgeons? She understood the basics of triage and helping those more critically injured first as long as they weren't mortally wounded. Did her brother have to wait? Was he in pain longer than necessary because of her rash actions? She could ask the doctors who went into surgery first, but they wouldn't tell her if they thought it might halt her healing. Plus not only did her quick actions add herself to the lists of patients vying for surgeons, but the shot also hit Marino. If he was treated before her brother and that was part of the reason he died, she would ask the guards for 5 minutes alone and would care less what IAB might do to her.

Her thoughts returned to the present when they reached the clear double doors to the main autopsy lab. Again Frost led her backwards through the door, and when he turned her around she was met with two of the most depressing sights of her life: a lone body covered with a white sheet who she just knew was her baby brother, and a forlorn looking Maura blankly staring at a report in front of her. For a moment Jane wondered if it was wrong of her for asking Dr. Isles to perform the autopsy as she was too close to her brother. But being a police officer wanting to become a homicide detective, Frankie had at least slightly known most of the medical examiners. One of the hazards in both jobs, being a police officer or an ME, was that one day the wall separating personal life and work would most likely crumble and they would have to work a case on a colleague and friend. Jane knew that she needed to say thanks for today, and for the life saving procedures that Maura had used to prolong Frankie's life less than a week ago, but she never did well with the heart-felt conversations. So not knowing how to start the conversation she wanted and needed to have with her friend, Jane went with the tried and true method...humor.

Frost never was good around dead bodies, and even less so around dead bodies he knew. He pushed Rizzoli closer to the Doc and then hurried back to stand by the door. If he had to run and throw up. he wanted to at least make sure he got to the bathroom. At this solemn time he didn't think it would honor either his injured partner, or the slain officer, to totally lose it in front of them. Well, he corrected that Frankie was beyond caring, but it still felt wrong. And he tried to calm his churning stomach as his gaze went back and forth between Jane and the hallway, being very caution to not look at the sheet covered body.

Staring numbly at the wall, the signed autopsy report beside her, Maura's thoughts whirled quickly from the past, present, and the future she would now never be able to have. When she would glance toward where Frankie lay, her vision seemed to blur between time – between the pale body laying on her "dead person table" with a grimace of pain on his face as she watched his chest rise and fall, to the current sheet covered pale dead body. Maura remembered the fear and worry that coursed through her during the hostage situation, and while she was glad that was over, she would gladly live through it again if it might mean the outcome would be better. Or so she could tell him "I love you," while he was still conscious, rather than just replying to his declaration of love.

A voice tried to pierce her thoughts and grab her attention - a voice sounding like Jane, but she knew that couldn't be. However, when her eyes focused in front of her, she noticed her best friend sitting in a wheelchair in front of her and Detective Frost hovering by the door.

Jane noticed the questioning look at first herself and then the wheelchair and to fill the silence stated, "It was the only way the doctors would let me leave briefly...well, okay, there was a bit more of fight then that." Before she thought how the words might sound, she tried to lighten the mood, "Ma said not over her dead body..." She cringed at the bad word choice as she shot a glance over to the actual dead body of her brother. Even now he was getting her in trouble, and she didn't know whether to laugh or cry about that.

Jane was expecting Maura to say something, even yell at her for trying humor in her morgue as she was a stickler about that, but she said nothing. For a few moments silence hung in the air and Jane wondered where her wordy friend was hiding. It wasn't like her to be the one hogging the conversation, but the quiet was getting to her. She paused and took a deep breath before getting to the real topic at hand. "Is he ready to be released/" she asked as she glanced at the sheet-covered body. She struggled to stand up. Both Frost and Maura rushed to her and each grabbed an arm to help with the upward motion and then to support her as she took the slow and painful steps over to the metal table. She pulled back the sheet enough to see the face of her baby brother, the one who wanted to be just like her and so followed her shadow into the Boston PD. She wanted to shout at him that to follow her he would have to be alive but wondered if maybe he didn't follow her subconsciously as she felt dead inside. Maura's voice lightly punctured the numbness.

"Yes, he's ready to be released," from her morgue, from the land of the living, from her heart... Maura's words meant so much but she realized with this last glance that he would never be released from her heart. The ends of the Y-incision that were visible threw out another question, 'Why don't you tell the family?' Maura glanced at a grieving Jane, and knew that the rest of her family was also in a state of shock and grief. Thinking it would be unfair to burden them with this new information, she vowed to keep the relationship to herself. So only she and a dead man would know that she was once 'Frankie's girl.' She reminded herself that Korsak had also found out but currently she couldn't deal with thinking too long about that.

Maura turned away from the lifeless face and went to get the wheelchair and move it over to the autopsy table so Jane wouldn't have the painful trip back to it. Plus it gave her a chance to breath and close off her emotions before the tears really started falling or Jane picked up on them.

But Jane was too engrossed in her own grief to notice Maura's struggling with hers. She stared at her brother as she talked to no one in particular. "Come on Frankie, I know you hate doing anything I tell you, but you gotta open your eyes now. Ma and Pop can't take this." In a quieter voice she confided, "neither can I." She reached out a warm hand to brush an imagined stray hair off his forehead. Working in homicide, if the wounds didn't clue her in that a person was dead, their temperature would, and Frankie was too cold. Jane moved the sheet enough to get to his right hand, and without thinking about it tried to massage some heat back into his lifeless limb. She was forced to stop when she needed to grasp the table to keep from falling over as the physical pain of her wounds was starting to overwhelm the emotional ones. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before opening her tear-filled orbs and gazing up at the ceiling. "Why him? He was always the good kid...he's needed..." She left off the 'more than me' that she truly thought in her heart. She wanted to say so much more and plead with God or anyone else that she could think of to bring her brother back. Hell. she'd try to sell her soul to the Devil if she thought that might work...but she knew nothing would bring him back, and her brother wouldn't want the latter anyway.

Maura tried not to hear but the room wasn't that big, so she heard the muffled sobs. She had a white-knuckled grip on the wheelchair handles as she heard Jane first pleading with her brother to wake up, and then why God didn't pick her over her brother. She knew Jane wasn't really religious, but Maura often saw in her job that when family members died the grieving would try to find comfort in any way. She might if she thought it would help, but science was what she put her faith in. Even though there had been studies on people who have said they came back from the dead, she knew that Frankie wouldn't be the Frankie they knew at six to nine minutes without oxygen to the brain, and only a maximum of four minutes without blood flow. So after a day there was no hope in a 'miracle,' not that she believed in them anyway.

When the sounds became only the occasional hiccuped sob, Maura moved the chair closer to Jane. She could see the sweat beading on Jane's forehead and wondered if the tears that she tried to hide were only for her brother's loss. She tried to help Jane slowly sit down, but odd twisting to reach around added with her slight size and Jane's weariness was not a good combination. Even with landing on the cloth seat, Maura was worried about what the pressure and movement on her wounds might have done. And with her desire as a doctor to help, and her need as a friend to make sure that nothing happened to this other Rizzoli, she quickly pushed the chair out of the autopsy suite and into the locker room for some privacy.

Frost was wondering where Maura was taking Jane until she looked over at him and said 'girl talk' as she pulled the wheelchair with Jane back into the locker room. He was glad for the privacy and that someone else was watching Jane for a moment as he bolted down the hall to the nearest restroom.

"Girl talk?" Jane asked when the door closed behind the pair.

"Well, since I'm going to make you lift up your shirt I thought it worked." Maura said as she wet a paper towel and started dabbing at Jane's forehead and neck.

Jane just glared at her like she was crazy – for both the annoyed tone she heard from her friend and also from the odd statement. _She didn't ask me. _Jane hated being sad and she hated being coddled. She much preferred anger and fighting if she had the choice, so she didn't think much of it when her emotions started simmering under the surface.

Seeing the glare, Maura lowered her tone to something she thought might be disarming. "I want to see if you're bleeding. If you are, I can change your bandages before you go back... Please?"

It was more the please than the calmer tones that finally had Jane nodding, and reaching up to undo a few buttons on the button up shirt.

When a few buttons were undone so Maura could pull the shirt away from Jane's left shoulder she went ahead and looked. "What was so important that you had to risk your life and leave the hospital?" Maura was also getting annoyed. Her emotions were stretched too thin from the rollercoaster in the last week. One of her best friends already died, she couldn't lose them both for one of Rizzoli's stupid stunts. She pushed a little on Jane's back to get her to lean forward.

If Jane was fully aware of all going on around her as she normally was in her job, she might have heard the tinge of fear in Maura's words. "I needed to check out who was going to take care of Frankie. Learned from one too many cases that often those who work around death do so because of their own sick perversions..." almost as an after-thought Jane added, "no offense." As she was pushed forward she had to bite her tongue to keep from yelling at Dr. Isles for her lack of bedside manner. Reminding herself that Maura always did say she didn't do well with live patients, plus most that she worked on were past caring if she pushed and prodded a bit too much...like her brother.

Maura took no offense nor pleasure in this moment as she was still too numb to be much of anything beyond just holding on. She closed off any lingering bit of anger and worry and put on her doctor's mask. So when she walked around to face Jane she seemed calm and collected and living in the land of facts and proofs rather than the emotional one that most lived in. She lifted up the edge of Jane's shirt to see the lower bandages. As they also were clean, Maura didn't ask to see the bandages on her chest. She was tired and didn't want to start a fight as she knew it would be. With all the movement and sitting, the back and abdominal wounds would have been the first ones to tear if there was a problem. She pulled down the edge of the shirt and watched as Jane buttoned her shirt back up. She really wanted to offer her friend some words of comfort, but she didn't have any. So she got another wet paper towel for Jane hoping that her look as she passed it over said enough. They shared a brief sorrow-filled smile before she pushed Jane back out to Detective Frost. Watching the pair then walk to the morgue exit, she berated herself for not saying something...anything. She already knew with Frankie that you often didn't get another chance. But for once her mind was silent.

* * *

Jane was actually glad to be readmitted to the hospital. She even told the nurse that she was in pain so she could get a dose of pain medication. Not that she needed to as the grimace on her face with every little movement told all. She didn't even mind right then that it helped send her to sleep. Sleeping, where the pain was not felt as strongly, the physical pain as well as the emotional pain that the day's events had dredged up. As her eyes started to drift shut. she hoped that the last few days were just a horrible pain-induced nightmare and that she would wake up soon.

* * *

Maura sat at her desk and wished this day was just a horrible dream. If she believed in superstition and old wives' tales she would already be sporting a nasty bruise from trying to pinch herself awake. But all the sensory input was much too real compared to the hazy, fleeting images she would dream about when on the edge of waking up and her brainwaves were in their theta state. She heard a loud knock at her door, and after saying 'enter' looked up as two well dressed men entered her safe haven. The younger man walked over and introduced himself and his partner to Maura. And the living nightmare just got more probable villians...the questioning she dreaded was now at hand.

* * *

AN: Sorry for the horrible delay. Writer's block is never fun...but less so for the readers I think :D. BTW if anyone has any idea of cases for the pair let me know...I already have 3 major ones but I need a couple small ones as filler and something when Jane is still on desk duty but bugging everyone. If I use it, or can't, I'll let you know. Thanks for those still reading :)


	14. Chapter 14

DISCLAIMER: I do not own this show, the books, or these characters. I only borrow them.

**Chapter 14**

The man who was introduced as Captain Ian Marks was the tall and thin one of the pair. Not that Lieutenant John Hanover was chubby, but the latter had a good amount of muscle mass while the captain seemed emaciated in comparison. As Dr. Isles went to shake his hand, she noticed that it wasn't always the case, as the captain's suit jacket seemed a bit too large for him. She stared him in the eyes while holding his hand oddly and much longer then was normal for a basic handshake. She noted his graying brown hair, almost pasty complexion, dark brown eyes that seemed to bore holes in whatever he looked at, the salt-and-pepper mustache, and that his pulse was faster then normal before he finally pulled his hand away and adverted his eyes. Maura might have seen that as a victory if she was going for a staring contest. She then briefly shook the lieutenant's hand. His blue eyes smiled down at her from his tan, clean-shaven face, and he almost could be seen as boyish with the dirty blonde hair that he seemed to have only run his fingers through...yesterday. The captain opened her office door and signaled for them to follow. He asked politely if she would mind going upstairs to one of the interview rooms. Maura knew that they would want to record her statement, and this way with time-stamped audio and visual taped evidence they couldn't twist her words around to fit their story.

It was an odd procession down the hallway by the morgue with Maura sandwiched between the two IA Investigators in black suits. It was even odder that out of the three, Maura was the least dressed up as she was still wearing green scrubs, the white lab coat she grabbed on the way out of her office, tennis shoes, and with her hair pulled into a harsh twist. She didn't seem fazed at all in a situation that would make many feel intimidated. No, she already had on what many called her "Queen of the Dead" persona. Seemingly unfeeling, and knowing that the truth and facts would always win out. She was good at giving evidence at court, and this wasn't all that different...other than involving a friend she reminded herself. And if anyone was looking at that brief moment they would have seen a small worried frown before it was quickly back to normal.

As they were riding up in the elevator, it quickly became apparent how this was going to play out. The lieutenant had the role of the good cop and he chatted to Maura and asked her if she'd like to stop for a drink on the way to the interview room. The captain as the bad cop who just glared at the pair in silence. And Maura firmly in the role of the powerless suspect to interrogate...but they had another thing coming. When the doors finally opened on the correct floor, Dr. Isles led the procession this time, past the horrible station coffee pot and to the first empty interview room. The investigators hurried to catch up with her as they didn't want to lose the advantage over her that they thought leading might create, whether over her, or the other officers in house. But they had never met Dr. Isles before. And not many had ever met this one, the pissed off powerhouse.

Korsak tried not to smirk as he watched the trio pass. Most wouldn't notice the underlying emotions that Maura was feeling, but he had learned to read her a bit more since she became friends with Rizzoli. He saw the jaw that was clenched tighter then normal, and even her quick pace sold her out as she usually walked with a more leisurely strut that Rizzoli always joked was her Paris runway walk. He almost felt sorry for the pair from IAB. He grabbed the bag of pretzels he was munching on and wandered over to the media room to get a front-row seat of the fireworks about to happen. He shook his head thinking that Maura had spent way too much time around Detective Rizzoli. He almost wished he had some popcorn as he opened the door and fell into the nearest chair, but, damn it, he was dieting. Luckily he did think to grab the small bag of pretzels. Not as good as movie theater popcorn, but he knew the show would more then make up for it.

When the trio entered the interview room, Captain Marks motioned for Maura to take the uncomfortable chair around the table while he and his partner sat across from her. Marks was on her right and farther away from the door. He flipped the switch to start the recording equipment, and the interview from hell started...but their hell or Maura's was anyone's guess.

"Please state your name and occupation for the record," Marks started.

Maura would have called the pair across from her Tweedledum and Tweedledee but that was cruel to do to characters from a book she loved growing up. Granted the captain did have a sinister smile that could almost make her think of the Cheshire Cat. But she had no qualms about the names 'Thing1' for Captain Marks and 'Thing2' for Lieutenant Hanover. In either case they created a lot of havoc. She knew that it was childish and unprofessional, but she couldn't bring herself to care as she thought the same characteristics applied to this investigation.

"Dr. Maura Isles, Chief Medical Examiner for the Boston Police Department"

"Can you please walk us through the day in question, especially any parts dealing with Detective Rizzoli and Detective Marino?" Thing2 asked.

She wanted to answer 'Why yes, I can.' but she knew being flippant never helped anyone in the long run. So she started retelling that horrible day. The memories flooding back, and the only good thing she could see from that was that at least in those memories she saw Frankie's loving gaze for the last time. The panic and worry that she felt in the retelling was at least slightly lessened, but the grief seemed to have increased exponentially.

She thought about starting the story when Rizzoli and Marino came into her sanctuary nearly dragging in an injured Frankie, but she decided to start all the way at the beginning. If they were going to try and place blame, Maura at least wanted on record about Cavanaugh's screw-up for sending so few people back to the station. "The first time I heard about the shooting of Detective Danny Clark was when my office was called in to come pronounce death so that the body could be moved. I was the best choice to go being that it was called in as a high priority case, and since I had just come into the office a few minutes earlier so I wasn't in the middle of a case yet." There was no pride in that statement as many would have thinking that they were the best for something.

"When I got to the scene, Lieutenant Cavanaugh personally came over to lead me to the body of Detective Clark. I pronounced death and took a vitreous humor sample from his eye in order to check the potassium level when I arrived back at the lab to determine the post-mortem interval. While I was putting the sample away, Detective Rizzoli came over to talk to the lieutenant. I'm not sure when she arrived on scene, but that was the first time I saw her. She was ordered to go interview Detective Clark's partner back at the station. I heard her trying to get permission to stay and interview Detective Marino there, but the lieutenant was adamant that she go back to the station."

Before she was able to go on, Thing1 asked, "Do you think that Detective Rizzoli might have wanted to stay in order to make sure that no evidence pointed to her or Detective Marino?"

"No, I do not. And even if I or anyone else did wonder about their thoughts, it would be conjecture and not legally relevant." She took a deep breath to push her anger back under control before going on where she was so rudely interrupted. "The lieutenant made it clear at this point that, outside of Detectives Rizzoli and Marino, he only wanted an officer left at headquarters manning the front desk. He said he wanted all available officers combing for any evidence that could be found at the warehouse where Detective Clark's body was found. At this point Detective Rizzoli walked back toward her vehicle, and asked Officer Rizzoli to come along. As the Crime Scene Technicians wanted to get evidence and pictures with the body still on scene, and my initial findings were already logged, I went along with them back to headquarters as the Medical Examiner's van was staying there until time to remove the body." Maura did not feel the need to mention how in the car ride Jane tried to keep the conversation light by joking with her brother about sticking him on the boring job of manning the front desk with whatever newer rookie was already there. But she did pause in her recollection, and, as if her thoughts also paused in the retelling, she was able to see the laughing face of Frankie as they both sat in the back seat as the two detectives were in the front. She had longed to reach out and hold hands as she knew this case was going to be hard on everyone...she just didn't know that it was going to get even worse. If she did, heck, she might have leaned over and kissed him too, even with Jane looking back in the rear-view mirror as she joked. Maura very briefly wondered if the shock of seeing her best friend and brother locking lips would have made her lose control of the car and hit something. Granted the outcome couldn't have been worse then it actually was, at least not going only 37 miles per hour.

She almost wished she had taken Thing2's suggestion to stop for a drink as she would have something to do. Granted playing with a coffee cup would clue the pair in to the fact that she wasn't as calm as she projected. "When we all arrived back at headquarters, we went our separate ways. I met up with Detective Rizzoli at the coffee machine soon after. She mentioned getting some coffee for Detective Marino and herself, but I could tell something was on her mind as she started using salt to sweeten her coffee." Maybe she should have kept that last part to herself, but she knew that anything not mentioned right away could come back and hurt them more in the end.

The captain again jumped on the perceived tell of Detective Rizzoli's guilt, "Do you think she might have been worried about not being at the crime scene to try and mitigate the damages."

"No, I offhandedly mentioned that she seemed preoccupied, and she said it was about her older brother, Tommy."

At the same time the two men interjected. Thing2 asked "Don't you think it's odd that at the time of a fellow officer's shooting, her thoughts would be on her brother?" While Thing1 went a different route to try and prove the woman's guilt, "Tommy, as in her known criminal brother, Tommy?"

She answered them in order of the question that she knew how to better answer, and where the answer would lead...the scientific one. "Not at all. The brain is a remarkable organ, capable of thought and repression of thought. The prefrontal cortex is involved in "executive control." In a sense it can break the circuit to the hippocampus which is more active during memory recall. However, the brain is also more active when a person is actually trying to avoid recalling events, and so the mind needs something to fill that void. After the death of a colleague, we all were trying to suppress those memories, or at least the emotions that those memories brought up enough so we could do our jobs without falling apart. Before the call for the deceased police officer, the last thought on Detective Rizzoli's mind was that of her older brother; for me it was wanting to check on my ill tortoise, Bass. It gave both of us a chance to push the emotions away enough to try and find out the true facts." She wondered if the men in front of her were trying to push emotions away to get to the truth here or not.

Looking over to Thing1, Maura finally got to his answer. She nodded but then thought she should verbalize her answer for the record, "Yes, that Tommy."

Thing2 still seemed dazed and confused over the scientific answer to his question, however Thing1 continued unhindered "How do you know his sister didn't take a more underhanded approach at doing actions that she knew to be illegal?"

"Because if you ever met Detective Rizzoli in the field, or even personally, you would know that she is a stickler for the law and rules." Okay, Maura knew that was stretching the truth just a bit as Jane would bend the rules in order to help out friends and family...as she showed in her reckless actions when being Marino's hostage. Maura wasn't sure if the tightness in her chest was coming from that stretched truth, or more from how those bends in the rules almost got her friend killed.

Neither called her on that half-truth, so Maura went on with her recollection of that hellish day. She quickly talked about entering the morgue and checking on Bass. How she heard two male voices and gun shots as they looked for something that she didn't know what was at the time. She went into more detail when she got to the part they were really interested in...her interactions with Detectives Rizzoli and Marino until the news crews recorded all the "proof" of a hostage situation.

"The next time I saw Detectives Rizzoli and Marino, they were helping Officer Rizzoli walk between them. Actually they might have all been helping each other stand up, because I noticed that Detective Marino was limping as hr was shot in the leg. Detective Marino volunteered to guard the door while Detective Rizzoli and I were trying to help stabilize Officer Rizzoli as he was having issues breathing." Most wouldn't notice the slight change in her demeanor which is how she got her nickname, but she was trying not to have issues breathing herself as she remembered that heart-rending situation.

"Finally we heard Detective Korsak over the walkie talkie, so we at least knew that someone on the outside knew what was happening. Through the conversation with him I mentioned the gunmen were looking for something from the evidence lockers, and Detective Rizzoli remembered the pack of cigarettes that she had forgotten to log into evidence the second she arrived back at police headquarters."

Maura looked at Thing1 expecting him to interject once again, but he seemed too busy at the moment taking off his suit jacket, placing it on the back of the fold down chair, and wiping the sweat off his forehead. She was glad to be able to continue unhindered. "The next thing I knew, another gunman came in threatening to shoot if Detective Rizzoli didn't hand over the camera that was in the cigarette pack to Detective Marino. Bobby's mannerism changed then from an injured and worried fellow police officer, to someone much more sinister. Detective Rizzoli was trying to talk to him to get his attention away from myself and Officer Rizzoli. She brought up the drug running and his killing his partner and the witness. I remembered that the walkie talkie was on the floor and hoped I was stepping on it correctly so the channel was open. Marino affirmed her suspicions, and then how he was going to be a hero as he shot the other gunman in the head. But how he regretted that it was only after the rest of us were killed first." Seeing this almost clinically, she knew that he could have gotten away too. With the times of death so close together, the autopsies wouldn't be able to paint the picture of who died first, but the survivor could. She wondered for a split second how the idea of her autopsy didn't faze her as much compared to how shook up she was that day with friends injured and guns threatening. Was it because now she knew that Frankie didn't make it?

Before she could go to far down that rabbit hole, she continued, "Bobby knew that his plans were ruined when Detective Korsak interrupted over the open channel. Before I knew it he was using Detective Rizzoli as a shield as he dragged her out of the room." She skipped over the parts about SWAT coming in as they had those reports. But she seemed to watch that part in slow motion as an outside observer. She saw herself looking at Frankie and mentally pleaded that the situation could change. Even as a viewer she could not say the words "I love you" as she was too chocked up. If she wasn't in an interview room and she didn't think that it would make the investigators question her credibility, she was sorely tempted to hit her head on the table in front of her for her cowardice.

In a quieter voice she finished the grueling recount, "I followed the pair and exited the building in time to watch them both get shot." She closed her eyes hoping that this was enough but knowing that they would still have questions. Granted, she wasn't expecting the bluntness of the first question.

"How do we know you aren't lying?" Thing1 asked.

Maura opened her eyes and gave a truly 'if looks could kill' glare at him. "Because I cannot. If I try for to long it results in vasovagal syncope." At the questioning look she tried not to roll her eyes at their ignorance before she explained, "I would lose consciousness as my heart rate and blood pressure would drop."

"So, if that is the case, just say 'Detective Rizzoli is a dirty cop.'" His eyes seemed to protrude even further out of their sockets as once again he thought he came up with the chink in the armor of events.

"No, because she is not and I would NEVER even try to spout that lie." At the please look that seemed to say he heard something valuable in that she added, "if you want to pick something else I will gladly pass out for you."

Korsak almost choked on a pretzel as he watched the computer screen. At one time he really loathed the "Queen of the Dead" and her calm demeanor and well thought out answers. But after getting to know the Doc, she wasn't all that bad. And her cross-examination with the IA guys was going better than his would have after being asked to call his old partner a dirty cop. No, he would have jumped across the table, well okay 'tried' to jump across the table, before decking the skinny guy in the nice suit. He was glad the media room wasn't too close to the interview rooms as he would swear his hearty laughter would be heard if he was just watching through a one-way mirror.

When it looked like no other lies were going to be offered for her to say, she asked, "Can we get back to the questions at hand please?"

However Thing2 couldn't help himself from wondering out loud, "Wouldn't you then be a liability for the prosecutor when cross-examined?"

"No, because I am neither for one side nor the other, but for the truth...same as here."

There was a pause as the two investigators seemed to think of what to ask next. They were used to running the show and having the upper hand in the questioning, but they weren't used to Dr. Isles and how fast her mind would jump from one thought to another. "Shouldn't you already have witness statements about what was heard over the walkie-talkie," Maura asked.

"Yes, we have sworn statements about hearing Marino's plan...but from her previous partner and her current partner. Often, with those relationships, people will protect the other, even from something they know is wrong and illegal," Thing2 answered.

"Detectives Korsak and Frost are two of the most honest police officers I have ever met. The only one I would say who was more honest would be Detective Rizzoli. And, in my profession, I can assure you I have interacted with many, many good officers. If there was some truth to your allegations, none of us would try to hide it. Truth and justice mean too much to all of us."

Korsak tried not to preen from the compliment as he continued to eat the pretzels and watch the show unfolding. The glare from the audio/visual technician for having food in the room near all the equipment didn't even faze him.

"They aren't allegations. We just need to make sure we have all the facts," Thing1 said.

"Could have fooled me," Dr. Isles replied. Then another heart-breaking thought came to her, "Who started this line of thinking? Was it her superiors? They seem to have issues when their employees think outside the box and think for themselves."

Korsak had wondered about this too, but his job security if he asked those questions would have been nixed. Dr. Isles, on the other hand, was the Boston PD's ace-in-the-hole. She had made national news before as her calm and well thought-out answers to questioning in a few capital crime cases helped secure the offender behind bars for the maximum penalty. Nearby departments had even requested her help on a few cases, and the department wouldn't want to burn any bridges with other PDs. Even worse would be if she would leave the BPD to go work for another one. So he knew BPD would never let her go for something so small...even though they might for an aging, overweight detective who they would probably like to put out to pasture anyway.

Maura knew she wouldn't get an answer to her questions, so she stated "Jane is about to bury her brother in three days because of this whole incident that you are thinking she might have had some role in." She grabbed at the anger she was feeling toward the men sitting across from her as it kept the sobs at bay when she thought of Frankie being buried soon. "One, she would never stoop that low to harm innocents. Two, she wouldn't have brought back the evidence that had proof of what Bobby Marino did if they were partners. And three, she would have made sure her brother stayed at the warehouse collecting evidence and was safe because family means everything to her."

"As you say, family means everything to her. Did you know that last year Detective Rizzoli helped to keep her father's business afloat? Maybe she would do something illegal if she needed the money to help her family?" Thing1 questioned.

She didn't think they were actually expecting an answer, and she didn't give them one. But she couldn't help but comment, "Funny that you ask if Jane might do something illegal for money when you both are sitting here in suits that no cop, or even detective with the higher pay grade, would be able to afford."

"Also, she failed to log that evidence in the minute she came back as was protocol. Maybe she was holding onto it to get a better deal for herself?" Thing2 wondered.

"You are lucky she didn't log the cigarette pack in evidence or none of us would know that Marino was a bad cop, and he would still be out on the streets playing good cop by day, and trafficking drugs by night."

"He'd probably be selling drugs by day too and covering it with 'I'm talking to informants.'"

Maura just glared at Thing2.

"Plus Detective Marino thought that being slightly injured would for sure make him look like a victim and a hero. If Detective Rizzoli was in on it too, maybe the shooters knew to not shoot Officer Rizzoli to kill?" The captain knew that he went too far in his questioning when Dr. Isles' gaze turned icy.

Maura had had way too much at that. It was bad enough that they were wasting their time investigating Detective Rizzoli, but to think that Jane would let anyone hurt her family if she could help it was ridiculous. And her anger was even greater, "but that shot DID kill him." Maybe not right away, but that was the beginning of the end.

In the other room, Korsak groaned at the horrible choice of words the IA guy used, but especially on Maura as the death hit so close to home. He hurried up and out the room to go tell them that the interview was over. He didn't really have a say in the matter, but someone had to look out for the Doc. So he missed some of the best parts, and by the time he got his hand on the door knob, Maura was already opening it from the other side and storming out.

Maura got up to leave and the captain all but demanded that she sit back down so they could finish with the questions. Her face was now back to her usual nothing can faze me manner that had people thinking she was unfeeling. "I work with police officers all the time, so I know my rights. You aren't detaining me, so I'm free to leave. You have my statement, both from today and the one I gave Detective Korsak a week ago. Get off your behinds and do your job. Nail Marino's ass to the wall, and clear Detective Rizzoli's reputation that you are dragging through the mud. She already has too much crap to deal with."

Thing2 tried to calmly plead with her to sit again, "We're sorry, but these questions need to be asked. The public is still reeling over what happened and are wanting answers."

"Don't try to placate me, and don't play good cop, bad cop. I have seen it done by some of the best, and you two don't even come close. We all want answers, but the truthful ones, not ones you conjure up that harm good people." She turned away, opened the door, and literally walked into Korsak as she exited the interview room.

Dr. Isles glanced back and stared at the captain. "By the way, you might want to see a cardiologist as soon as possible, or go to an emergency room. Let them know you have Graves' Disease with a rapid heartbeat. Tell them to check for atrial fibrillation." She tried not to feel smug seeing the scared look on his face as there was a life at stake. But there was also a reputation at stake that at least currently took precedence in her eyes. She would have loved to tell Jane about diagnosing yet another hapless bystander, but she didn't want Jane to find out about IA's investigation if she didn't need to.

Korsak hurried after Maura as she then turned and all but flew to the nearest stairwell, descended a couple floors, and then rushed down the hall to her office. _Of course she would take the stairs_, he mused as his breathing increased from the struggle to keep her in sight. He opened the door to her sanctuary and entered without knocking or getting permission. He gazed over at her already sitting on the couch, her arms hugging her stomach. He might have thought she had a horrible stomachache if not for the look on her face. The look of sorrow made Korsak realize that she would much prefer to be hugging a living Frankie so he could erase this nightmare. He watched as her mask finally crumbled in the safety of her office, and a few tears started streaming down her face. Man, he really hated these situations as he wasn't the greatest at comfort...hell, he was probably one of the worst he could think of. He stiffly sat down next to her, and, with stilted unsure movements, draped his arm around her shoulder in an odd half-hug. But never in a million years would he have expected Maura's reaction as she turned into the hug and started crying harder. She always wanted and tried to be so strong for others, and even though he was uncomfortable, he knew at least someone needed to reciprocate. It was a long while, but finally he heard the crying stop, felt her body stop shaking, and noticed that her breathing evened out. Korsak knew she was at the hospital often and then here, but he didn't realize how little sleep she was really getting until he could move and lower her gently to laying down on the couch without waking her up. He pulled the now folded afghan down and, after covering her, moved a stray hair that had come out of the tight twist. He was glad they were in her office so no one saw her reactions to the week...and even more so that no one saw him because he didn't do comfort.

* * *

AN: Please review- I know there are more then 3 readers lol. Was a long one but I didn't think I should break up the interview. The next bit will be the funeral and I'll probably break it into 2 chapters as it is already longer than this with only pieces I need to tie together, but will try to update the same day as it should stay together. Also already changed the story to AU as I'm sure when the show picks up all characters will be alive and already recovered.

Not sure if I summarized the suppression mechanism correctly...if curious to read for yourself...

Berlin, H.A. and Koch, C. Defense Mechanism: Neuroscience Meets Psychoanalysis. _Scientific American. _April 13, 2009.


	15. Chapter 15

DISCLAIMER: I do not own this show, the books, or these characters. I only borrow them.

**AN: This chapter is dedicated to all those who serve and protect, especially those who have given their lives in that capacity, whether military, police, firefighter, or EMTs. **

**Chapter 1**5

The days seemed to tie everyone up with busy work, and those at police headquarters were not immune. Within the last week the police force carried out viewings and funerals for two officers with Frankie now being the third. It almost seemed like the force went from on-duty, to a funeral, and back to the office again. The men and women all looked ragged from the physical and emotional weariness of helping to fill the needed spots with those out because of injury, death, and, in Marino's case, because of turning rouge. Add onto that the mental and emotional weariness from losing your friends to death or greed and it was taking a toll on even the heartiest of cops.

* * *

After Maura had woken up from her brief nap, she went home in order to prepare for the funeral the next day to honor the memories of Detective Clark and Officer Jones. There she did what she always did when she was unsure about a situation...research. But the black and white information did nothing to prepare her for the mass of black and blues of the many police officers from the New England area, the bright and pastels of the numerous flower arrangements, or for the red, white, and blue of the flags covering the two caskets. And, while that funeral helped cement in her mind what happened in the church service for a line of duty death of a police officer, it did not help prepare her for the additional emotional stress of Frankie's funeral just two days later.

Jane was sitting alone in her room after having annoyed the nurses and doctors yet again. She had all but pushed her parents out the door the night before pleading with them to go to the funeral for the other two officers killed in this whole mess as she could not. Jane thought the medical personnel should have been happy with her for not pushing herself to get out of the hospital in order to go to the funeral, but no, they were still annoyed as she refused to take any pain medication this morning. She might have tried to leave the hospital if it wasn't for the fact that she needed to regain as much strength, physically and emotionally, as she could in order to get through Frankie's funeral without dishonoring his memory. But she at least owed it to Detective Clark and Officer Jones to be awake and alert as she remembered their tireless service to the city rather than be fuzzy from the medication.

She wasn't sure how long she watched the local breaking news delivering the information of the lives of the two slain officers and the funeral services that day. But all too soon twelve pallbearers came out of the church carrying the two flag covered caskets between them. The onlooking officers saluted as they were loaded into the two waiting hearses, and then two processions of police vehicles and personal vehicles started their journey to the officers' final resting place. Jane struggled to push herself out of the bed and to stand at attention and salute. At least she hoped it was at attention and not slightly tilted as the world seemed to look. She didn't realize that in the process of moving she pulled off her EKG leads causing the nurse at the monitor station to sprint toward her room. Jane's gaze was too riveted on the small television hanging on the wall to notice either the nurse at the door or the annoying alarms of the machine.

The nurse sitting at the monitor station seemed to take her eyes off the patient readings for just a moment but in time for all hell to break lose. She heard the alarms and gazed over to see that they were coming from the patient in room 307. She looked at the name and knew they couldn't lose that patient as the parents and the community had already lost much from her brother's death. She pushed out of her chair so quickly that the seat spun around twice before coming to a stop, but she was too busy sprinting down the hall to notice. She grabbed the edge of the open doorway of room 307 in order to help her swing into the room and then quickly came to a halt as she saw the situation in front of her. It didn't matter that the patient in front of her was in a hospital gown, that her hair was tangled into quiet a few knots, or that her IV line was straining to pull out from the placement of the right hand. The nurse saw the truth, a dedicated police officer honoring those fallen. She wasn't sure how long she stood there taking in the scene, but she did hurry forward as the patient lowered her arm, and the body tried to mimic by lowering itself to the ground.

After she finished the salute, Jane felt herself start to fall, but there wasn't much she could do about it currently. At least this once she was glad to see a nurse rushing forward in order to help prevent her downward motion. She was also glad that no one else was around to watch the painful and, at least to her, embarrassing situation as she half pulled herself and was pushed back into the bed. Jane watched as the nurse then untangled her IV, reattached the annoying wires connecting her to the numerous machines, and sent some pain medication dripping into her IV line whether she would have said no or not...but she couldn't even if she wanted to as she was too busy trying to bite back a moan of pain and grief.

For the rest of that day, and the following one, Jane was asleep more then awake. She didn't mind too much as she knew the rest would help her body heal, and she needed to be as strong as possible for her parents and to honor her baby brother. In those few lucid moments, Jane was updated on how the plans for the funeral were progressing.

* * *

A couple days after the interview with Dr. Isles, Internal Affairs had closed out their investigation into Detective Rizzoli's character. So Jane's career wouldn't be buried the same time as her brother. At least there was that plus.

Then all too soon, that Sunday came along. The sun shown brightly in the windows to announce the dawn of a beautiful day, but to the Rizzoli family it was as dark and bleak as the blackest night. When the family would normally start arriving for their dysfunctional family dinner gathering, they were to be at the church preparing to honor one family member. One week ago they never thought that their weekly family dinner was going to come in the form of a reception after burying a member.

_Every girl needs a little black dress_, Angela remembered telling her daughter a few months ago. But this wasn't what she had in mind when she told her daughter that. She wanted Frank and herself to get dressed up and go out on the town sometime to shake things up as the house was lonely without all the kids...not get dressed up to say good-bye to one of her children. The black dress was a simple pull on that fell mid calf; the black sheer long sleeves ended with a thick cuff at her wrists. She asked Frank to zip up the back before she slipped into a black pair of practical flats. She then turned around to see how her husband was faring.

Frank hated dressing sharply, and he hated it even more today for the reason behind it. He already had on his black slacks, crisp white button up shirt, and the black jacket that he needed to literally brush a couple of cobwebs off of as it had sat in the back of his closet for quite awhile. He heard his wife ask for help with her zipper, and then he went back to playing with the cuff links. He remembered the kids giving them to him one Father's Day even though he would probably never wear them...he wished that was still the case. He dropped his hands and then reached for the black tie that was laying on their bed. For a brief moment he wondered if that might have also been an odd gift, but he ruled that out as they preferred getting him really garish ties if they went that route. He mused that he wasn't likely to get anymore joint gifts from his children anymore. He knew Jane wouldn't get to team up with Frankie on gifts, and she damn sure wasn't going to bail out Tommy.

Angela walked over to her husband and worked on fixing his tie as he never seemed to get it right. She grabbed her black bag and then followed Frank down the stairs and out the front door in an odd foreshadowing of later processions. She glanced back in the living room as he shut and locked the door. She knew their house would never be as alive as it once was, but at least they would have one of their kids safe in the house after the day was over.

Maura looked at herself in the bathroom mirror to make sure everything looked okay. She noted that the make-up helped hide the dark circles under her eyes and the paler than normal complexion. She saw how the hand-stitched dress fell well on her figure, and the skirt flared out to just below her knees. A simple, comfortable, and expensive dress, but she would have much preferred to still be in her pajamas this morning with Frankie. For a moment the oddest thought played in her mind...she'd give up all the nice clothes and just shop in thrift stores like Frankie if she could just have him back. Knowing how final death was, and how she liked seeing art in clothing, she wasn't sure which part shocked her more for wishing. She walked out to her bedroom and grabbed the long sleeved black shrug that she had to cover her arms and slipped in to the plain black heels that she had picked out. She wore her hair down; Frankie always liked how it flowed over her shoulders. She grabbed the black bag from her dresser that she had packed the night before, grabbed her car keys, and then started toward the front door. She looked back at her sparse living room and knew that she was never going to add color and dysfunction to it like she was starting to hope for.

The doctors would have loved to keep Jane in the hospital longer as her body still had a lot of mending to do. But not today though, and not later because her family needed her. Her mother was already given copious notes for after hospital care and had already stocked the house up with more bandages, tape, antibacterial gels, and medications than Jane would have preferred to ever know what to do with. Her clothes were laying neat and pressed on the uncomfortable hospital mattress. The nurses had helped her earlier that morning with washing her hair and a sponge bath before reapplying the many bandages on her front and back. She didn't fight them then or when they brought the wheelchair around that would take her to the main entrance as she needed her strength more later in order to stand and honor a fellow cop. She didn't fight the nurses either when they came back in to help her dress as she still couldn't move well or fast. Bending at the waist to pull on her pants would have been too painful, as was getting her arms through bra straps and arm holes. She was too numb to feel her usual embarrassment of needing so much help and being dressed like a tiny child, but she needed to look her best. And she did in the dark blue police uniform with each long sleeve sporting a Boston PD patch near her shoulder; gold initials "BPD" on both collars of her shirt and a gold tie clip now that she was a detective while her brother would never get promoted to get past the silver embellishments; hair twisted up and off her neck; her police duty belt with all her gear including the radio that would remain silent until later; and her shiny gold badge near her heart with the black band horizontally across it letting anyone who looked at her know that she and all of the Boston PD were mourning. She didn't complain as her mother came in to help her put on her polished black shoes. She stood up and tucked her hat under her left arm, and at least this once graciously sat in the wheelchair letting her father lead her to the door as her mother grabbed her bag and any stray items from the room. A few of the doctors and nurses who knew this patient, and the previous one she was going to see, stood proudly watching the grieving family go by. It made Jane think of the similar line of officers at attention she would walk and drive by later.

The car with the Rizzoli family pulled up to the front of a large stone building on Washington Street. Cathedral of the Holy Cross wasn't the family church in Revere, but the family thought it would be ideal as it was close to the hospital Jane was staying in, and also close to police headquarters so Frankie's colleagues could switch off a bit so all could say a brief yet heartfelt goodbye. The fact that it could hold slightly over 1700 people didn't hurt either as police funerals were always well attended, and even then there would probably be a few stuck standing in the back. Frank helped his daughter out of the car and then up the few steps to the multiple double doors. As they walked in, Jane noticed that it seemed like many Catholic Churches she had been in before: high ceilings, arches, beautiful stained glass windows, and lots of gilded crosses, cups, and candelabras. But there was one major difference. The flag covered coffin and smiling picture of her brother near the alter were sights she would have preferred to never see in a church.

The family started walking toward the front where they would sit. Angela walked in front of her husband and daughter. Jane had to hold onto her father's arm as they made their way up the aisle. This was not how she pictured walking up a church aisle with her father, that should have been a joyous time rather than this mournful one. She mused now that even if she would get the chance to walk down the aisle with her father as she once thought, her brother would never be able to stand up as a groomsmen as she had pictured. Maybe it was a good thing she didn't consider herself to be marriage material and so would never have to face that pain too.

As they approached the front, Jane saw Maura standing near the flag covered casket and the few bouquets of flowers that the funeral home sent over to be set up with the body, along with a blown up smiling picture of her brother in uniform. She cracked a miniscule smile thinking that some things at least would always stay the same. Even now her anti-social friend was more comfortable around the dead.

But Jane didn't realize that Maura's focus was not on where the body lay but trying to find one small bouquet of flowers. She knew that the family requested donations instead of flowers, but she needed to do this too. She knew a lot about flowers, like she knew a lot about many topics. She knew not only scientific names, but also meaning placed on them in the Victorian age. She might not have felt comfortable telling the world her thoughts and feelings about Frankie, but she could let the flowers tell. Luckily she knew a florist who grew obscure plants and flowers as some were hard to come by in the cold New England area. She finally found her tiny bouquet almost hidden behind the heart shaped carnation arrangement that Angela had requested for her son's funeral. Maura's all white arrangement other than the one red tulip in the middle cost more then a dozen red roses would have, but in it she said so much more.

Jane left her father's arm when they reached the entrance to the first pew and stepped up beside Maura. She was quiet for a few moments not knowing what to say until she finally asked "Did you know that flowers can tell a lot?" _Of course she knows, she's Maura._ She wondered if her brain was also injured last week because that was such an odd place to start a conversation, but she didn't know what else to say. She saw a slight smile light up Maura's pale face as she nodded. Rather than waiting for her to say something back, Jane continued her nervous ramblings. "Ma started looking them up after Pop bought her some black rose seeds to plant once. He thought they would be an interesting addition in the backyard. Ma just thought he was trying to tell her something." She tried to smile but she knew it didn't reach her eyes. "Ma picked the carnations for their meaning..."

Maura turned slightly to look at her friend's face, "Remembrance."

"Yeah. Do you know about many flowers?" Another dumb question to ask the smart doctor. But she wanted some more information on the small bouquet she was told about Friday night when her mother returned to the hospital. Her parents stopped at the funeral home to see Frankie on the way back to the hospital, and noticed a small, mainly white, flower arrangement that had a card attached 'Love, Your Girl.' Jane was less then pleased.

"A few. A lot of plants are medicinal, so botany was an interest of mine."

_Shocker._ "What can you tell me about those?" Jane asked pointing to the arrangement in question.

Maura gave herself a silent pep talk that she could do this. She adopted her normal tone and stance when explaining something, and started a brief lecture. "This is gladiolus undulatas, part of the iris family, also known as a waved flower gladiolus," she lightly brushed the white petals with a dark pink stripe down them. She didn't add the meanings as they seemed too personal. She had three flowers for who Frankie was, and life in general: the gladiolus for strength of character, the larkspur for beautiful spirit, and anemones for fragile as life was. She pointed next to the white larkspur, "delphinium consolida, part of the buttercup family," and then the poppy anemone, "anemone coronaria, also part of the buttercup family."

Jane knew the white carnation from the family's floral arrangement so she skipped over that one. "What's that one?" Jane asked pointed to a forget-me-not that looked very close to the anemone in her opinion.

"Myosotis laxa," at Jane's glazed expression, whether from the scientific names or from pain Maura wasn't sure, but she could at least help if from terminology, "tufted forget-me-not." That flower and the carnation she picked to say she wouldn't forget, and the last two flowers she picked for her feelings. She pointed first to the last white flower meaning loving thoughts, "pansy." Before she could say more she was interrupted.

"Why not a white tulip?... Why red?"

"No clue." Jane might have pressed for meaning if she was thinking clearer; however she just assumed that it was Maura being Maura, not wanting to make assumptions on what someone might have been thinking. But Maura knew precisely what that someone was thinking picking the red tulip for declaration of love. She might never have spoken the words out loud, even now, but her flowers did.

Before the silence could become too overbearing, Maura saw Frank and Angela Rizzoli coming over to see how their daughter was doing. When Frank was in range, Maura held out her hand for a quick cross between a handshake and just holding on for dear life. She said to the grieving family "I'm truly sorry for your loss." It so didn't feel like enough as she knew what the loss felt like as it was ripping her apart too. It wasn't just the book-understanding of that emotion as it often was when she was telling grieving families in her office that she was sorry...this was gut-wrenching She started to reach out to shake Angela's hand as she saw others doing, but she was shocked stiff when Angela came forward and gave her a tight hug. Jane might have laughed at the panicked deer-in-the-headlights look on her friend's face if her sorrow wasn't too deep.

After a few seconds, Maura relaxed and brought her arms around the older women. She wasn't sure right then who was helping the other more, but she relished in the brief bit of comfort. Soon she pulled away and then gave all of them a half-smile before walking away. Maura knew she should have been stronger for her friend, but she needed some solitude in order to get her warring emotions under control before they finally got the better of her. She wasn't quick enough to get out of range before Jane and her mother started talking.

Jane was staring so intently at the flowers that she didn't even note the odd behavior in her friend, either the longer than normal hug, or walking away. Her thoughts were at least partly brought back to the present as her mother lightly touched her arm. "Why didn't she visit in the hospital, Ma? Maybe he would have had a better reason to fight his way back to us?" She didn't expect answers, but the questions had been burning in her mind for too long, and she needed to voice them. She was surprised at the anger she heard in them other then just hurt.

Maura couldn't help raising her hand to cover her mouth, first in order to keep any sounds from escaping as she heard someone else voice that thought that she had also wondered about. Would telling him 'I love you,' even when he was asleep have reached him? There had been studies on it, but she had been selfish wanting to wait to see his eyes. The hand also helped in case her quick walking to the restroom was not in time. She so hoped that wasn't going to be the case.

Maura entered the restroom and all but collapsed on the floor in front of the first toilet in time to empty the little bit that was in her stomach. Granted as she hadn't been eating like she should have this last week, so all too soon she was just left retching. She mused how working with dead bodies never made her ill, but mourning one was. Her stomach was tied in knots with so many emotions bombarding her. She leaned her head against the cool metal stall wall while she caught her breath and determined that her stomach wasn't going to revolt again.

She was glad that she packed a good assortment of make-up in the side pocket of her black bag as she knew she would need more than just a touch up from the torrent of tears cascading down her cheeks. She didn't try to stop them as she knew they would be cathartic. With so many who were sorrowful in this occasion she didn't stand out...at least not to people who didn't know her. She finally stood up from the hard tile floor, and straightened her solemn black dress back down and pushed a long strand of her caramel hair out of her face. She walked out of the stall, rinsed the taste out of her mouth with the cool tap water, and looked at herself in the mirror. Her outfit looked okay, but her face would have frightened anyone. She let her mind wonder about the false advertising for her water-proof mascara as it was streaked down her wet cheeks. She started washing her face and redoing the make-up as she pondered if the change in the chemical composition due to added protein-based hormones in emotional tears was what caused the make-up to not stay on as promised.

* * *

"I called Frost yesterday to check about the flowers you mentioned. She paid cash and had the florist sign the card so there is no reason to try and analyze handwriting, and the only usable prints were the florist's."

"How do you know the florist isn't the one?"

Jane tried not to sound annoyed by her mother's question as she hoped it might have been that easy too when she was talking to Frost, "because HE is a 53 year old, white, male."

"Oh."

"Yeah, Oh...She has to be in law enforcement, Ma, to know how to keep it untraceable." Jane turned her angry gaze to her mother, "How could she at least not come and honor the life of a slain officer? How?"

Angela also wished to learn who caused her son's eyes to light up in his last few month. She would have loved to have heard more stories about who her son was: she knew from a parent's standpoint, and knew from a professional one, but she would have liked to hear if she and Frank raised him to be a gentleman in a relationship. But she also gave the girl the benefit of the doubt. "Janie, look..." she pointed at the crowd behind her daughter, and then tugged on her right arm to get her to turn around while making sure not to jostle the left shoulder at all. "Look."

Finally Jane turned around and saw what her mother wanted her to see...a bit of color here and there surrounded by a sea of blues and black.

"How do we know she isn't out there? She lost someone important, too, don't forget that." Angela wondered if the words were just for her daughter or if she needed to hear them out loud too. She looked over and saw the anger start to leave her baby girl's eyes, but the sorrow that took it's place was worse.

Frank just shook his head at the conversation, and in the direction that Dr. Isles had nearly run. He was fairly sure that this was hitting her more then anyone knew, but if that was the case, it was her story to tell. Then he and his wife half-held, half-pulled their daughter over to the front pew.

Jane could tell who the Catholics were as they automatically genuflected before entering a pew. She watched her parents also do so before they slid in. Any other time she probably would too from a combination by rote and so that her Ma didn't nitpick. But even if she did care today, she knew that she would end up face first on the floor if she tried. So, instead, she just slid into the pew beside her father. She was grateful for his strong presence on her right, and the hard wood from the edge of the pew on her left as they helped keep her upright.

She let her mind wander before the actual funeral started. She noticed people coming over to offer her family condolences and shake her hand, but she was too busy trying to breathe through the pain in her body and reminding herself not to curse right then. Jane thought it was odd that it felt like her brain emotionally was shut down, or at least stuck in slow motion, but it seemed to be working in overdrive to remind her that her entire chest hurt, breathing hurt, sitting hurt. She knew all the big wigs had come over and now were parked in the pew across the aisle from her: Massachusetts' senator, governor, the mayor of Boston, the police commissioner, superintendent in chief, and all of the district captains. She didn't catch the names: they were tagged on at the back of the titles as if that wasn't the important part. She didn't really care... plus she was sure she didn't vote for most of them. She knew Maura would know, and probably personally from some of the social circles she frequented. Jane, however, wished she never would have met them because cops usually only did in the worst setting.

Many police officers from around much of the New England area came up to the family to also offer condolences. Jane knew these were a bit more meaningful as anyone in law enforcement knew the hard truth of losing a friend or colleague. She noticed the black band horizontally over the municipal shield badges, and angled from 1100 to 1700 hours on county star badges. Eventually the unknown faces became ones from closer to home: either their childhood home, or now their home in Boston. Jane was pleased to see cops from Revere as they knew the family, granted, mainly through Tommy's exploits. She thought it was probably a good thing Tommy didn't show up so he didn't make a scene seeing most of his old arresting officers. She saw the weary and sorrowful faces of men she and Frankie had seen on a regular basis at work. She needed a break from the grief lined faces, so she started to just watch her hand as she felt like it was going to fall off soon from all the shaking. She looked up again as the hand she was shaking was encased in a white glove. She looked up into a friendly face finally.

Detective Frost held Jane's gaze, trying to determine if she was hanging in there...well, as well as could be expected. He was also dressed in his pressed uniform, and it looked good on his dark, skinny form. Detective Korsak finally nudged him out of the way so that he could look in the eyes of his old partner. His uniform was not as neat as Frost's, partly because he had gained weight since he last needed to pull it out of the closet. Two buttons were straining against his bigger gut. For some reason that brought a smile to her face. She smiled up at him and clasped his white gloved hands. She was grateful to both Korsak and Frost for volunteering for their duty. Four more police officer came to offer their sympathies also wearing the white gloves of the pallbearers. She knew that one had been Frankie's training officer, and the other three were members of Frankie's class, but the only way she even knew part of their names was from their attached name tag. The six then moved as one to sit in the pew behind the family.

* * *

About ten minutes before the service was to begin, Maura came and nudged her way to sit behind Jane. She gave Jane's shoulder a quick squeeze before she sat down next to Vince. Korsak just sent Frost a shrug when he made the whole group slide down, the seating 'chart' was already shot to hell with Maura not sitting in the front row with the family. He wasn't about to say anything about her sitting in this row...plus if Frost asked, _Rizzoli could use the support. _It was always fun to blame Jane.

Maura wasn't paying attention to the words the priest was saying. Instead she glanced around at the many stained glass window and saw Jane's father move closer to her friend and clasp her hand as he feared hugging her would be too painful. She smiled at the parent and child as she remembered her own. Her parents weren't very connected to her on a personal level, but there were some times where her father especially would come out of his socially constructed shell in order to just be her dad. In church he would often pull her onto his lap and hug her. Protecting her from the gruesome images of death all over their church. It was ironic that the stained glass windows of Joan of Arc burning on a pyre, or the crucifix with Christ's mangled body scared her as a child, but now she sees and works on people who were killed horrendously. Maybe she should thank her early upbringing for desensitizing her to death and the evils of man...at least until this one.

Her thoughts came crashing back to the service just in time to hear, "Officer Frank Rizzoli Jr. is survived by his parents, Angela and Frank Sr., two sibling, Thomas, and fellow officer Detective Jane Rizzoli." Maura recollected the funeral two days ago. How it was mentioned that Officer Jones was survived by his father and a fiance, but she wasn't even that to be remembered. She saw all the families of the deceased sitting in the pew in front of her: the Rizzolis, Detective Clark's wife although she had her sister watch her two children so they didn't live through another sad funeral, and Officer Jones' father and fiance. Maura knew she could have sat with the families, if only she would let them know her closely guarded secret.

Jane didn't hear much that the priest said. She never was good at keeping her mind focused on the liturgy and the often long and boring sermon that followed. She would usually turn her brain to other matters whenever the priest started talking, just paying attention enough to know when to sit, stand, kneel, pray and whatever else they dictated. Her thoughts where brought back when she heard, "His family would like to say a few words about him," the priest said as he stepped away from the pulpit. That was her cue. She had asked to go first.

The pain of walking toward the pulpit was actually helpful as it kept her focused on something other than what she was about to do. But all too soon she was standing in front of a packed church, her mouth seemed drier then a desert at high noon, her palms were sweaty, and all the things she thought to say about her brother, and the police officer, went out her head. So she did what she was good at in interviews...winging it with whatever popped into her head.

"When Frankie and I were kids, I hated that he kept tagging along. He was 2 years younger and then it seemed like an enormous gap. Granted, as we got older it was humbling to know that he looked up to me so much. But even then he wanted to tag along it seemed as he joined the Boston PD. I was secretly pleased, and I never regretted that...until last week." She didn't want a desk job because she thought she would disappear, but Frankie's following her into their dangerous job caused him to disappear, and that was tearing her up inside more than any bullet could.

"Frankie was a great cop and an even better brother. Even then I didn't show either like I should have. Many of you who know me know that I can be a bitch about details..." There were a few coughs in the audience that she knew covered up a slight laugh. Jane glanced over at the coffin, and then at her two partners. Most days she could have expected one or all three to say sarcastically 'who, you, never,' but today wasn't most days as one couldn't speak and the other two just gave her sad smiles. She looked briefly to her parents before sweeping her gaze back over the crowd and saw a frown on her Ma's face. At least some things didn't change, and she could just hear the berating she would get later for cursing in church. Well, her Ma had finally got her wish about getting Jane back into a church, but this was not the way either would have preferred. Jane always thought it would be her mother literally dragging her in kicking and screaming to try and save her soul...not this.

"I rode him farther and harder then many instructors would have at crime scenes, but that was because I knew he would make one hell of a detective someday. At least he would have if his life wasn't taken much too early." She tried to paste on a smile, but she bet she wasn't doing so well. "But enough of this sad stuff, Frankie wouldn't want anyone mourning unless there was a real reason..like the Boston Red Sox losing the World Series." But at least if they lost there was always hope that the next year would be better, she had no hopes of that for Frankie. "He would want his family and friends to party for the life he had, break out a good beer, and know that he'd keep watch over us from heaven just as he did on his beat. Rest in peace, Frankie. I know you've got my back." _I wish I could have said the same._

Knowing that their daughter was finished, Angela and Frank Rizzoli stood up as one and started walking toward the pulpit. Angela traded places with her daughter after a quick kiss to the cheek, and she started talking knowing that Jane would want the attention on anything other than her painful shuffle back to the front pew.

Frank tightly held onto his daughter's arm. He could tell that she was in pain from the pinched expression on her face and that she was leaning on him more than she would have liked. He wished she didn't feel the need to be so strong for all those around her, but he knew who she got it from. Before she could slide into the pew and sit down, he kissed her on the forehead and gave her a small smile. With both the help and the kiss, Jane would usually have whined 'not in front of the guys' and there were a lot of police officers around to watch, but today she was grateful for his strength and support.

"Jane already mentioned how Frankie followed her around. For awhile Frank and I worried that he wouldn't step out of her shadow, but we finally knew he was growing up and would find his way on his own during a softball game when he was 10. He and Jane both played on the same team that year, which was very helpful so we didn't have to worry about having games on the same day... Anyway, during one game the pitcher from the other team saw Janie's long hair and I guess wanted to scare her or something, and so ended up hitting her pretty hard with the softball when she was up to bat. Jane was struggling to get up, and I just knew she was going to get in the pitcher's face. But before she could get to him, Frankie was already there. He clocked the kid good." Angela chuckled as she remembered the shocked look on the boy's face as he ate dirt. "Granted, as the parents, Frank and I had to sit him down and tell him that there were better ways to deal with bullies, but secretly we were so proud of him for standing up for his sister. She was too... you could see it in the way she would tell anyone who brought up her black eye that they should have 'seen the other guy after Frankie got done with em.' I should have known then that he'd want to get into a profession where he could help people deal with other bullies.

"No parent of a police officer wants to hear the news that their child is hurt in the line of duty," Angela glanced at Jane remembering both this time and when she was injured by a deranged serial killer. She started to tear up and struggled with words that didn't seem to want to come anymore.

Maura reached an arm out and squeezed Jane's right shoulder for comfort. Before she could pull her hand back, Jane looked back, gave Maura a sad smile, and reached up a hand to grasp the one on her shoulder before turning back to listen.

Korsak thought it was ironic and sad that Jane had no clue of the comfort she also gave back to her friend with that gesture. He always thought that Jane was the most stubborn and pigheaded woman that he had ever met, but he was starting to rethink that.

Frank stepped up to his wife, wrapped an arm around her waist, and took over speaking for the both of them, "Frankie will be missed. Not only by his mother, myself, and his siblings, but also those whose lives he has touched, and the many more whose lives won't be enriched by his presence now." He looked toward Dr. Isles and then back over the crowd, "We want to thank the police and medical professionals who worked so hard to try and save our boy. We will miss you Frankie." He wanted to say more...he wanted more time with his family... he wanted this harrowing day to be over.

Jane again squeezed Maura's hand to let her know there was no hard feelings. She glanced back to see tears in her friend's eyes and assumed that they were solely because her help wasn't enough. Jane wished that Maura could see that, without her, Frankie wouldn't have even made it to the hospital.

When she looked back toward the front, she saw her father all but dragging her sobbing mother back to where she sat. A lone bagpiper started to play 'Amazing Grace,' and Jane tried not to cringe. She used to love the sound of bagpipes, at least until she became a cop so it started to just represent loss and death. She heard the sound of many already filing out the back doors, so they could give him a proper send off. She watched as the six pallbearers came forward to get her brother's casket, and they started one of the many processions of the day. She painfully stood up and joined her parents in following Frankie. It was always supposed to be him following her...this was just wrong.

* * *

AN: Ok so just the church part, cemetery and honors in the next one—came down to rushing OR being happy with the chapter...so you have to wait :) (or making you wait for this one too but that is just cruel)


	16. Chapter 16

DISCLAIMER: I do not own this show, the books, or these characters. I only borrow them.

**AN: This chapter is dedicated to all those who serve and protect, especially those who have given their lives in that capacity, whether military, police, firefighter, or EMTs. **

**Chapter 16**

Maura grabbed her bag and quickly joined the procession out the doors. She made sure to stick with the Rizzolis even though she had to elbow a few people to do so. As Jane stood in the doorway putting on her hat for the short walk from the door to the car, Dr. Isles asked the parents if they minded if she rode with them. She wasn't going to take no for an answer, but it was only fair to ask.

Jane used all her senses quickly like she normally would at a crime scene. In moments she saw the police outfitted Harley-Davidsons from the BP Special Operations Unit heading the long line of vehicles. Next came a few police cruisers with their blue lights already flashing in their own beat. She watched the six men load the casket in the back of the hearse. She heard a whistle down the street a little ways and knew that some of her colleagues were directing traffic to make sure that the transition from sitting still to moving the long line of cars would go smoothly. She saw the wind ruffle the American and Massachusetts flags that the honor guard was holding. Shifting her eyes left and right, she saw the lines of police officers saluting as their fallen comrade was shut into the back of his ride. She saw the two six-person limousines behind the hearse and then a stretch of vehicles that disappeared around the block. She felt the fire and pain that her wounds were screaming to nerve endings as she started down the few jarring steps to the first vehicle behind the hearse. If she could just treat it like a crime scene. Stay angry and focused on the final solution...but she didn't like the final outcome of this scene.

Jane always thought riding in a limousine was supposed to be kept for joyous and fun-filled occasions. She thought wrong as this was neither. She watched as the pallbearers started loading up in the second one and felt a small laugh bubbling up as she watched Frost being 'nice' and holding the door open for the other five to get in first. She knew better. When he wasn't the one behind the wheel, his weak stomach protested the movements so he always wanted to stay near a window for air and a door for quick exiting if needed. It probably didn't help that he had just helped carry a dead body...her brother; with that her brief amusement was cut off and the laugh seemed to get stuck in her throat and made breathing through her healing lung even more painful. When she looked back toward the vehicle in front of her, she noticed that her mother and father had already scooted in and Maura was just stepping into the back. At least that was a plus. Jane could use something or someone to keep her mind off her brother and her grieving parents.

Granted, the first few minutes after getting in the vehicle and closing the door behind her, Jane's mind was too busy to focus on any emotions as the physical pain was almost too much. Behind the tinted windows and away from prying eyes other than family and friend around her, Jane felt safe enough to lower her walls slightly to not totally try and hide what she was feeling. She rested her head on the back of the seat and closed her eyes. She knew her face was pinched in pain and knew she had to figure out how to deal with it in the drive toward Revere and the nearby Glenwood Cemetery as the day was far from over. She felt delicate hands take hers. At first she thought maybe for comfort, but then she felt two fingers searching for her pulse point. She should have known better where Dr. Isles was concerned...emotional comfort came after physical concerns. But maybe that was better today or Jane thought she might start bawling and she knew that wouldn't help the breathing issue.

Jane felt the car start to move forward, heard the sirens telling cars around them to stay out of their way; those sensations she knew were coming and so did not pull her attention back. She wasn't expecting to hear the sound of Maura moving from the seat beside her, and she SO wasn't expecting the cool air to hit her once covered ankle. Jane wasn't sure what was worse: the slight panic that a bug might be crawling on her leg, the bright light that attacked her eyes when she opened them wide, or the reawakening of pain in her side that she had been trying to close off as she shot forward to bat at her ankle. She momentarily wondered if someone slipped her some pain meds when she wasn't looking because she had to be hallucinating to see her safety cautious friend not in her seat belt and kneeling on the floor of a moving vehicle. Jane wanted to ask 'What the hell?' but she didn't want to bring up the cursing in church incident right then for her mother to berate her for.

Maura cringed in sympathy when Jane shot forward. She tried not to kick herself for forgetting rule number one when treating a live patient...let them know calmly what you are going to do before you touch them. Oh well, she couldn't change that any more than she could change what happened a little over a week ago. She was annoyed to not see the hospital issued compression socks that she was expecting Jane to be wearing to prevent the same type of complication that killed her brother.

"What are you doing?" Jane asked.

"After major surgery you shouldn't sit for long periods of time, but that couldn't be helped today. So I'm making sure there are no set-backs from that. Pulse was a little too fast but not so fast that your tachycardic; that is normal when dealing with stressful situations or when in pain." She bet if she would check her own it would be faster then normal too. "Aristotle believed that the heart was the seat of emotions, and that was why strong emotions cause the heart rate to change." Dr. Isles knew she should have finished explaining what she was doing, but Maura wanted answers more, "Why aren't you wearing the compression socks I know the hospital would have given you?"

"They aren't regulation," there was an underlying tone that seemed to say 'Duh, surprised I knew something you didn't.' Jane should have known that was too good to be true.

"Now...NOW you decided to follow the rules, when it could compromise your health. Plus the regulations stipulate that you can wear partially white socks for medical reasons as long as no white shows above the shoes."

"What did you read and memorize the uniform codes?" Jane could see Maura doing that, so before she could answer she continued, "...never mind, don't answer that."

Maura hated when her emotions started running too hot, and her heart and head started to hurt...she thought that a full blown myocardial infarction or stroke would be less painful. So she did want she always did, put on her doctor's mask and lived in the safe world of facts and figures. "I'm checking to make sure there is no blockage or swelling in your legs as can sometimes be a complication with sitting too long. Ankles aren't warm, no edema, tibialis posterior pulse in both are strong and steady. Any pain in your legs?"

Jane sarcastically chuckled as she raised her right hand to gingerly touch where the bandages on her stomach were, "even if my legs did hurt, I don't think I'd notice with all the other issues." She was getting annoyed at the attention, "Maura, stop. It's fine...I'm fine."

Maura tried to keep her voice down so Jane's parents didn't hear, but her quiet voice was still filled with anger and sadness. She was irate at the situation, but she couldn't rant to a situation...she could to a person. Her words were enunciated well, "I'm NOT going to let that happen again!"

_Shit_, Jane saw the anger smoldering in Maura's eyes and knew that she was still upset for what she saw as letting Frankie down. Jane thought it was odd seeing passion and fire in such an icy gaze.

They tried to keep their annoyed voices from carrying over to the other two adults farther down the wrap around seat, but it soon became apparent that it didn't work. "Girls!"

Both turned childlike chastised looks over to the older couple. Jane in her deeper voice said, "Sorry, Ma." At the same time Maura said quietly, "Sorry, Mrs. Rizzoli."

"It's Angela, please."

Maura sat back on her ankles and wondered if it might have some day been 'It's Ma.' But not now. "Sorry... Angela."

When Maura turned back to face Jane, they caught each others eyes and each said a truth-filled, "Sorry." Maura noticed her friend still had her hand over one of her bandages. She grabbed her black bag, moved closer to the door, and started to move her arms toward Jane before pulling back thinking better of it. "Do you mind?"

Jane knew it was one of those questions so you felt in control, but there was only one right answer. She pushed herself down the seat a bit so Maura had enough room to get off the floor. Again she found herself being glad for the tinted windows as she untucked the front of her uniform and started to undo the lower buttons on her shirt. She could tell from the look on Maura's face that her friend was not happy with what she saw as the shirt was moved away from the lower bandages. Before she could be chewed out again, by either Maura or her Ma, she grabbed at humorous small talk, "You lock your purse?"

When Maura saw the soiled bandage, she was very glad she thought to pack her bag the night before solely for what Jane might need. She hoped that there would be no real emergencies today as her smaller black Italian leather doctor's bag was not packed for any other situation. She started entering the code to unlock her bag when Jane asked her question. "No, I lock my medical bag. I didn't think I'd have time to get my usual one after church, and I didn't want to carry the unwieldy thing all day. So I had to pack for the basics."

As Maura opened the bag, Jane could see that it was packed more like a first-aid kit than a normal purse. She could see the few personal items in a large side pocket: cell phone, make-up, and a small wallet. The rest of the bag was all health related. Jane saw a blood pressure cuff and stethoscope taking up much of the remaining room, but she also saw what she knew all too well were large sterile bandages, a roll of tape, and a few small packets. "Damn, that has more in it than Ma's one-stop-shop." She didn't think that was possible, but she pointed over to her mother's bulky black bag so Maura could compare for herself.

Maura wanted to ask if Jane was planning on telling anyone that she was bleeding again, but she held her tongue not wanting to start another heated discussion. Plus she was pretty sure she knew the answer anyway.

Most of the bandage just had the normal reddish-clear discharge around the incision site, but Maura also saw some deep red on the bottom of the bandage. She was almost tempted for a moment to point out that the deep red stain was blood...Jane would probably get a kick out of that since she would never say so at a crime scene. Instead, she just held her tongue. Dr. Isles pulled out a package of sterile individually wrapped latex gloves and, almost before Jane could blink, they were out of the package and on Maura's tiny hands. As she peeled away the soiled bandage, Dr. Isles saw the issue right away. There was the start of a scab around the incision site, which was good as to let her know that her friend was healing. However, all the movement caused the bottom part to crack, and she also noticed that the last two sutures, while still holding, were not as tight as they should be which only exacerbated the bleeding from the cracked scab. She grabbed a bottle of water from the bar and wet a sterile gauze pad. She started to dab at the wound to clean it up and then placed a couple large butterfly closures over the bottom of the incision. It might not be the best solution, but, as Jane wasn't bleeding heavily, she let it go as she knew she would have WW3 on her hands if she even hinted that Jane should go get patched up rather than attend the graveside service. Finally she grabbed another sterile bandage to put in place.

Jane was curious. "Why don't you use something to clean it other than water? Ma would always douse our scrapes and cuts with hydrogen peroxide and blow on it 'til it stopped stinging." Thinking of all the scrapes she and Frankie got into, she almost missed Maura's answer.

"In really deep wounds the bubbling can create oxygen gas which could create a gas embolism if it reached the bloodstream."

Jane was sorry she asked. Before she knew it Dr. Isles had taped down the new bandage and determined that the others were okay for now. Jane buttoned up her shirt and tucked it back in as she watched Maura strip off the gloves and throw those and the bandage wrappers in a small trash can that was hiding under the minibar.

Maura turned back toward her friend and tried to hand her the nearly full bottle of water. "You are already losing fluids and it's a hot day out. Drink." She noticed the glare that Jane sent her way, but it didn't faze her anymore...well too much. "Unless you want to pass out at the gravesite." She also then reached in her bag and pulled out a packet of tylenol and passed over the two white capsules to Jane. They were better then nothing, and Maura knew that Jane wouldn't take anything stronger.

Jane grudgingly took the pills and swallowed them down with a large gulp of water to make her point. Granted, that wasn't the best move as she was still having issues with swallowing a lot at once. She really hated sometimes that Maura knew her so well as she knew just what buttons to push to get her to comply. But she would not budge on Maura's next request that she should take off her duty belt as it was pulling and pushing on healing skin and muscles. "No"

"But, Jane..."

"NO!" She let Maura talk her in to finishing off the water, but she would not be swayed on this.

Maura couldn't understand why that was so important to Jane, but she let it go. She had already achieved more than she thought she would be able to get away with as Jane so hated being taken care of. She sat back in the comfortable seat and clasped hands with Jane this time just for the comfort factor...for herself and for Jane. They sat in silence for awhile and looked out the window as they continued north on US-1. Maura noted that at each entrance ramp there was a police vehicle with their lights on, blocking cars from interrupting the line of mourners. She was so engrossed in the fast pace of the world passing her window that she almost missed the quiet, "I miss him," from Jane. She turned back to look at friend, "I know."

* * *

Maura got of of the vehicle first, followed by the Rizzolis. She thought it seemed very dichotomous that a resting place for the dead was so full of life: lush green grass, trees in the distance, and some birds singing a hello from those trees. She saw Frank start to come over to help his daughter walk, but Maura shook her head to let him know she had it as she took Jane's arm. However, halfway to their destination she wondered if that was a bad idea as Jane was reluctant to lean much weight on her, and from a combination of the heat and the effort, Maura saw her friend already starting to perspire. She was glad to see the area set-up for them: a couple columns of foldout chairs under a canvas canopy. It sort of reminded Maura of an outdoor wedding scene, and she could see her friends and even Frankie doing that as a gag as she already lived, breathed, and dreamed about the dead. She just wished the occasion was a happy one like that. She wished she'd get a chance at that happy scene at all...but not now.

When the group got to the spot, Frank took the first chair in the right section and Angela slowly sank into the next one. Jane and Maura were not as graceful though as halfway through Maura trying to help make sure Jane lowered gently to the seat beside her mother, gravity had another idea and pulled at the pair. Jane ended up fully on her seat, but Maura was only half on the one to her right. The friends glanced at each other with small half grins even though in another circumstance that little incident would have caused then to laugh so hard they might 'split a gut.' Probably better for all though, as in Jane's case that seemed possible with surgical sutures and staples holding her together in places. Rather than move from the spot, Maura scooted back onto the seat and took Jane's hand before looking forward to the casket that the pallbearers had put in place moments ago.

Once everyone was gathered under the tarp or standing behind it, a man in pastoral robes came forward to speak a few words. Maura knew he was the Boston Police Department's 'on-call' Catholic priest, Father Daniel Brophy. He worked with the the BPD if they needed advice on a case with religious aspects, or if the victims could use his calming presence and prayers. He didn't say much as they had just come from a service, but Maura did catch the phrase, "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called children of God." It was situations like this and scientific rationale that had destroyed any childhood belief in an omnipotent God. For awhile she debated with the nuns and priest at the elementary school that she went to before she went to boarding school, but their answers never made sense; plus, if there was a God, then she shouldn't have the job she did, but she did, and she saw all the evils that man would do to another without any divine intervention.

As the priest started walking away, Maura noticed seven men with rifles march forward. They stopped a few yards to her right, facing the casket and away from the people gathered. She knew what was coming as she read about it when doing research a few days earlier. Granted, she wondered about the logistics of gun fire to honor a police officer...shot by a gun. She knew the steps of a three-volley salute so she thought she knew what to expect. She watched as they raised the weapons to their shoulders before firing, but she could not have expected how loud it would really be. Even though she knew it was coming, she still jumped. The sound almost pulled her back to that horrible day, but the strong tone telling the firing squad to ready, aim, and fire again overrode the sound in her memory as the gunmen complained that the evidence lockers were empty. Glancing to her left, Maura was pretty sure that Jane was dealing with similar thoughts as her hand was clenched tight at her side. She pried open her friend's fingers to grasp hands trying to keep each other grounded. At the third and final shot, the two seemed to be in a contest to cut off the other's blood circulation in their hands. Finally the sounds were over even though the smoke still lingered. Maura watched at the men lowered their weapons and marched away to go back to standing near the end of those gathered.

When a bugler came forward to play Taps, two officers also came forward to remove the flag from the casket and start folding it with military precision. Once folded into a triangle, one man stepped toward the grieving family with it.

Jane watched out of the corner of her eyes as the folded flag was given to her mother. She quickly had to move her gaze away from the scene as she saw tears stream down her mother's face even faster as she clutched at the poor substitution for holding her youngest son.

And then, all too soon, Maura learned why Jane was adamant about keeping the belt with her radio on as all those around her heard the 911 dispatcher. "All units stand by to copy, last call for Officer Frank Rizzoli Jr., badge number Alpha 286. Alpha-2-8-6..."

_Maura had heard Frankie called over the radio once. He said he needed to double check that the evidence was logged in correctly so that he could sneak down and say hi. It wasn't the first time, nor would it be the last time he came down to chat under some pretext. She didn't remember when, but she and Frankie had started to develop an odd code of sorts so if anyone would walk in on them talking they wouldn't understand what the topic was. "According to medical records, she had heart palpitations and difficulty breathing on Saturday," Maura grinned as Frankie's eyes sparkled in mischief as he replied, "To bad it came to an end, or could have done more tests to determine the best course of action." She laughed wishing their weekend hadn't come to an end either; that was okay humor in the morgue as it was about life, and not about one of the corpses that had come through her doors. He put his index finger on her mouth when the call came in to get her to be quiet as he copied that he was on his way. But before he could leave she nipped at the finger and they shared a smile as he all but ran out the door. She wished he could answer now..._

"...Alpha-2-8-6..."

_Jane had heard her brother called over the radio once for backup on his beat. She joked that the bosses were calling so he better run. Of course Lieutenant Cavanaugh HAD to come out right then and bellow for her. Frankie laughed that the boss was calling and that she better run, before he stepped into the elevator. She stuck her tongue out but he was already out of view. Come on Frankie, the bosses were calling..._

"...Alpha-2-8-6..."

_Frankie's parents had heard their son being called over the radio once. They were in town as Jane was still in the hospital with so many bandages on her hands that they couldn't hold them. The parents needed a breather and their on-call son could use a meal, so they met up at Murray's. Frankie was called in to go take statements at a nearby robbery. He chuckled as he got up to leave as Pop mentioned they would take care of everything and was already reaching over to grab the uneaten half of his son's sandwich. He shook his head as he left because, even though his Ma complained about Pop taking his food, she was already reaching over and pilfering the fries. They wished he could respond to the call now..._

"All units be advised that Alpha-2-8-6 is out of service. His shift is over. He is going home. Rest in Peace, Sir."

After the last radio call, not much broke through the silence other than birds singing and the shuffle of feet as most of the people gathered started to walk back to their vehicles. All too soon there were only six people left near the casket. The parents walked up and said a quiet good-bye before stepping out of the way so Jane could step forward and place a carnation on the wooden box. After she was done saying her good-byes, her father started to leave Angela's side to help his daughter, but her partner stepped up. So the two pairs, Frank and Angela and Jane and Frost, began the sorrowful trip back to the car as they walked away from their beloved family member.

A few steps later, Jane realized that Maura was still standing in the same spot rather than joining the procession away. "You coming, Maura?"

"In a minute, just wanted to say something."

Jane assumed that Dr. Isles still blamed herself for what happened and so needed to say, 'I'm sorry.' She hoped that her friend would be able to heal soon, just like her entire family needed to do now.

Maura stepped up to the casket, and ran her hand over the smoothed, polished, cherry wood. She was debating whether to say sorry or not, but not for the reasons Jane assumed. Instead she said, "I love you." A self-loathing chuckle spilled from her mouth as she mused that maybe everyone was right with the term 'Queen of the Dead.' It seemed ironic that she finally understood the concept of the word. She feared saying it to a living Frankie as she didn't want to throw it around like so many seem to do before they really were sure, but here she stood telling it to a dead man. She always did bear her soul better to the dead.

Maura closed her eyes and listened to the sounds that Frankie would be able to hear from here if his brain could still process signals. Lovely bird songs, the sound of the wind rustling the trees in the distance, and her words that he had so longed to hear. She took a deep breath, and then turned around to walk away from where her heart was going to be buried. She was surprised to see Korsak standing at the back of the row of chairs as she thought she was alone, "You didn't have to wait for me."

"I wasn't...okay, I felt left out. All the other guys have a beautiful lady on their arm," he said taking hers. "You won't tell Rizzoli I said that will ya?" He watched her slight smile brighten a bit.

She heard herself chuckle. "Your secret safe with me," as her's was with him.

* * *

AN: I hope I did justice to what would go on at a police funeral, however if you have been to one and know any glaring issues with the order or anything please let me know so I can edit this or the last chapter. I tried to research as much as possible but also mixed in with a bit of artistic license. For the last radio call I used for Frankie, I used District 1 (code Alpha), or downtown area, which I assumed as he was seen at headquarters often-like the code for Jane is Victor because homicide. If anyone knows differently how the call would be placed in the Boston area please let me know. Thanks.


	17. Chapter 17

DISCLAIMER: I do not own this show, the books, or these characters. I only borrow them.

**Chapter 17**

For awhile now, Dr. Isles felt like she was being watched. As she rounded the foot of the autopsy table with the body of 74 year old Mary Helmer, Maura noted a man standing in the hallway watching in through the clear doors. If he wanted something he could come in and ask or go down the hall to speak to the morgue secretary, so she went back to the rest of the external examination. She noted some bruising and swelling around Mrs. Helmer's right hip and right wrist. Based on the coloring they were new contusions; there was also a large skinned patch on that hand. There didn't feel to be a knot on her scalp. There was not any blood or wounds that she could see through the woman's white thinning hair. From the medical records that the hospital sent over, Dr. Isles knew that the patient fell stepping off a curb, and with her brittle bones from osteoporosis, she broke her right hip and wrist as she tried to break her fall. According to the x-rays in her chart, her right femur showed an intertrochanteric fracture, and while the x-ray wasn't clear on the fact the doctor assumed from her symptoms that her scaphoid bone in her wrist was also fractured. Those injuries landed her in the hospital, and now the family wanted to know if the hospital might be at fault for her death as she had been there for the last few hours of her life for what to them was a simple broken bone.

She had just finished the y-incision to start on the internal examination when the man in the hallway knocked on the glass to get her attention. "Yoshima, finish cracking the rib cage open. If I'm not back in 20 minutes, grab one of the other MEs to help finish with Mrs. Helmer." As she walked toward the doors, she started removing the still relatively clean paper gown, apron, and gloves. She tossed the soiled items in the red biohazard waste container and then stepped out into who knew what. "Can I help you?"

"Hello, Dr. Isles, I'm Dr. Laurence Zucker and I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time."

"Yes, I've heard of you. Is my office okay?"

Being a good friend of Detective Rizzoli's, Dr. Zucker was sure that she probably had heard about him, and not in the best light. He was a criminal psychologist at Northeastern University who often worked as a consultant for the BPD on high profile cases: not only by helping to profile the suspect, but also by interviewing the victims. Not only did Maura know about him from conversations with Jane, but also from reading the reports on Charles Hoyt. Jane gave Maura an earful on how she hated shrinks, but he was especially annoying...more so because he treated her as a victim first and a cop second. And Jane had been stuck dealing with him as he determined if she was ready to go back out on the streets.

He nodded that her office was acceptable. A few times a year he would solely be called in to determine if a police office was mentally sound to carry a gun and be back on active duty, but he didn't think it was as interesting without the murder, mystery, and mayhem that he saw from deranged killers. While there were many officers and other personnel he would need to see after the shooting of a detective, and then the take over of headquarters, he knew after all that he would get to the real mental and emotional insights he was interested in...interviewing Bobby Marino to determine what would turn a good cop.

Even though she didn't carry a gun, Dr. Isles knew that he would still give her a cursory once-over in order to relay to her bosses that she wouldn't fall apart at a crime scene. For the last week she had just been working in the morgue and on the never ending research, viewing tissue samples, and reading toxicology reports to try and close the many cases still open. She led the way to her office. After opening the door and signaling for Dr. Zucker to enter, Dr. Isles rounded her desk to sit across from him. She closed the folders that were open on the center of her desk, moved them to the side, and gazed over at this interloper. This was her 'turf' as Jane would say, and with all the psychology classes that she also had, she wanted that bit of control and authority that the yard of polished hard wood separating them gave her. She wasn't about to sit on her couch like one of his normal clients. She saw the brief smile at the corner of his mouth and the crinkling around his eyes.

He knew what she was up to, but he was willing to concede to the point that she was making. They both knew why he was here, so Dr. Zucker didn't even bother with the usual introduction niceties. He had been given a brief overview of the doctor sitting across from him, and from watching her work, he knew that she preferred straight, to the point, and effective actions. "I was given the report of the hostage situation you were involved in two weeks ago. From what I saw earlier, you seem to be handling being in the same room fairly well. Have you noticed any major issues with being in the morgue since that incident?" First to determine that she could do the job, and then if she would fall apart down the road without further therapy.

Maura knew better than to say 'no, nothing' as that would just make him curious...even before she would have passed out from the lie. "Sometimes if someone is talking loudly near the evidence lockers, or one of the doors is slammed shut, I often find my pulse and breathing rate are elevated until I determine who is nearby. The first time it happened I was alone, like I was that day, and before I knew it I was ducking down behind the autopsy table until I realized the voice was one of the newer crime scene technicians. Greg, I think it was."

"How did that make you feel?"

_Was that some quote that all therapists were taught to memorize and spit back like parrots? _"I know that flashbacks are a normal occurrence after very emotionally charged situations. Plus they haven't happened often as there are usually people in and out of the autopsy suite with me, and the lights are full bright rather then the emergency backups, so it's easier to tell the difference in most situations."

"Those are facts. How did you feel?"

She hated thinking in terms of emotions. Even now Maura couldn't help but think about facts like Dr. Ekman and his Facial Action Coding System, FACS, that came about from his study on the 43 facial muscles and emotions. She thought about the seven basic emotions that had clear facial signals: anger, sadness, contempt, happiness, fear, surprise, and disgust. Was that why she had so much issue with 'love'...not as easy to define as a set of muscle movements or actions. Not as clear to see on others. Not as clear to learn how to act. According to Ekman, love was an attachment rather than an emotional state, even though it was emotionally laden; love was dependent on time and could make someone happy, surprised, or even sad depending on the actions of those attached. And Maura wondered which she was worse at...attachment or emotions. Before Jane, Maura kept most people at arms length so that strong attachments never formed; therefore there was less chance for strong emotions like sadness or fear...nor for happiness, but it was hard to change after so many years of protecting herself.

Dr. Zucker cleared his throat and brought her attention back by asking again, "What did you feel?"

"Fear...anger," at the intense questioning gaze she elaborated, "Fear because I remembered the gunshots. Anger that they were there with guns in the first place..." She lowered her voice, but it was still audible, "...at me for forgetting for a moment what was going on."

As a psychologist used to calming down or defusing those talking to him, he was about to tell her that the reaction was normal. But the medical doctor across from him already knew that as she stated; however, he knew all too well that often emotions seemed to outpace the rationale. "Any other changes in your daily routine: sleeping, eating, interpersonal relationships, or work?"

Maura liked how he worded that question. With the 'or' she technically only had to answer one part to still tell the truth. But which part? She didn't want to mention her difficulty sleeping. That would bring up that part of her issue that she was starting to sleep much better when she was around Frankie than not. That would open a can of worms that she was not prepared to try and deal with. She knew that once that can was open, it would be like the prank were the 'worm' springs would pop out at the unsuspecting subject...it was easy to open, but once opened it was difficult to close again. She didn't want to mention her issue of not really wanting to eat much either; there were so many emotions that seemed to churn in her gut that adding food to the mix was not tolerated well. She didn't want to mention relationships with how she had lost Frankie, or that she hadn't talked to Jane for the last week other then an odd text message here and there. She told herself that it was so Jane could heal, but she knew in the back of her mind that it was also so she could step back from the situation and slowly place all of the lost possibilities behind a solid batter-proof wall in her mind. She didn't want to mention that at work she would now only exit from the morgue bay doors because she knew that if she exited the main doors she would again be stuck seeing friend and fiend struggle for the gun and the resulting blood bath.

Thinking the the pause might be due to the generic question, Dr. Zucker asked, "From the report you filed, it mentioned that you needed to perform a few emergency procedures on Officer Rizzoli. However he still died a few days later. How are you coping with that?"

"Meaning what? Do I feel guilty that I didn't do enough that first time he was on my autopsy table? I know I did the best I could with what I had available, and without that he wouldn't have even made it off that table before the EMTs could get to him." She hoped at that moment that Dr. Zucker was in the 99% of people who could not see the quick micro-expressions that would clue him in to the sadness and anger underlining the surprise from his question. "I do regret that he died though." _That was the understatement of the year. _She also regretted not telling him 'I love you' when he could have smiled that goofy grin at her.

She tried to focus on something other than her regret due to Frankie's death. Granted, she didn't like where her thoughts went any better. Before Maura had always been in the smaller top percentiles on academic tests, graduating class, and IQ tests. She had always strived to be in them and secretly was happy that she was...but she wasn't happy at the moment that she was in the 1% who could spot subtle clues in facial expressions, voice cues, body language, and speech to know who was telling the truth. So was Hoyt. Just one more way that she was similar to him...Dr. Zucker would have a field day if he knew that Hoyt got in her head even that small amount after their last conversation. With his past interviews with Hoyt, his two survivors, and family members of those who lost loved ones because of him, Dr. Zucker would be interested to know how even without his scalpel he could still cut people apart. If he knew that tidbit, it would mean everything to him: more than Maura being held hostage where she was usually safe and where she still needed to be able to work; more than watching her best-friend get shot in a struggle for the gun; even more than if he knew what Frankie meant to her other than just her best-friend's brother. She schooled her features to make sure he was not clued in. That wasn't a lie. Just working out the various facial muscles, nothing more.

She changed the topic yet again as she started talking. It seemed like a safer, happier topic at the time. "Jane was the first real friend I've had. We didn't meet in the social circles I grew up with, so I knew that friendship was real and not just posturing to get something out of it." Maura chuckled a bit, "We didn't even get along the first few times we had to interact at crime scenes or in my morgue. It was refreshing to have someone tell me what they really thought rather then pretending to be friendly to get ahead."

"So how did you two end up as friends? I know Jane is not the easiest person to butt heads with at work." He was curious, but he also wondered at the major shift in the conversation.

Maura couldn't tell he was really curious as she knew Jane fought him tooth and nail when he evaluated her after the initial Hoyt incident, or if he was just trying to put her at ease before touching on some of the bigger issues she knew he would get to eventually. "It happened over time. Not sure when it happened exactly. After awhile we started just acknowledging that the other person knew what they were talking about in cases rather then just 'butting heads' as you so eloquently put it." That term really did work well with Jane...and herself, she was loathe to admit. "Then, after a really tough case, I finally took her up on the invitation to go to Murray's after work for a drink. I think by then she just asked as she thought she should as the gang was all going to unwind. She seemed a bit shocked that I accepted, and I know Detective Frost wasn't too happy when he saw me join the group. He hates dealing with death at crime scenes, and so I think he wished he could have left those thoughts, and therefore me and what I do back at the office. It wasn't terrible, so I went the next time Jane invited me. I didn't realize that the guys weren't going too. We started talking about anything and everything: work, how odd at times it is to be in a career field that is still dominated by men, how the job is not the best when it comes to being in a relationship as most don't understand what we do." She trailed off then realizing sadly that for the last few months she had pulled away from Jane when it came to talking. Relationships and guys were talked about in generic terms so she didn't rock the boat as she feared what her first real friend might have thought about her brother and her best-friend as a couple...and, even worse, what might happen if the relationship didn't work out. She couldn't bear to lose them both, and in the back of her mind, Maura knew part of the reason for not informing the family about her relationship was she still couldn't bear the thought of losing them both. Oddly, Dr. Zucker's next question brought Maura back to the present, but also reminded her of how close she really was to that possibility two weeks ago.

"So how did you feel walking out the door and seeing your friend getting shot?"

"Terrified." Maura gazed at the wall behind the psychologist's head, but rather than seeing the white wall from her office, she was watching again as friend and fiend started falling to the ground.

Still not knowing that Frankie was anything but her friend's brother the doctor asked, "How about when trying to save Frankie life as your friend begged you to save her brother?"

Maura dropped her eyes to her desk, and her voice to a lower decibel, "Terrified."

"Did you worry that the outcome might effect your first real friendship?"

Maura wondered if he might be better at reading emotions and truths better than she gave him credit for. "There was no time at that moment to worry about anything but trying to save a life. But even then, Jane isn't like that." Her words were stated mainly with conviction about her friend's character, but there was also a slight bit that was saying the words to reassure herself. Maura knew that Jane wouldn't blame her for his death, but she would for keeping the relationship a secret after the bit she heard at the funeral. That fear, more than her excuses of being busy and Jane healing, was why she hadn't talked to her friend outside of a few text messages lately to check-in.

"Jane would do anything for family, and I think part of her issue when her brother was injured was that she couldn't do anything about it." Maura cringed as she watched Dr. Zucker write that information down, and she hoped that, when he interviewed Jane, he didn't mention where he got that gem from. Well, she already started that thought and he had his ammo, so she might as well finish, "I was at the hospital when Frankie coded, even then Jane wanted to do something, even if it was just going to him and beating sense in him to wake up if needed. I watched the family rally together. Helping each other who were hurting and wishing they could also do something for Frankie...they are all alike in that." She remembered the family huddled together. The group hug that had started out to keep Jane from hurting herself, became so much more as they helped comfort each other and themselves.

"What did you do?"

"I watched from the door and then left. I didn't want to intrude..._didn't want to fall apart in front of them_." Maura didn't realize she said the last part out loud until the next question.

"Why? What would be so bad about falling apart in front of others?" He went on before she even had a chance to try and come up with a reason, "You knew J wouldn't blame you. Did you think that maybe his parents might? They didn't see what all you did in trying to save their son's life, and telling them isn't exactly the same."

"They aren't like that either. It's where Jane gets her compassion from." Maura took a deep breath before correcting his assumption. "And I didn't tell them," about anything involving their son: trying to save him or trying to love him.

"So you never told them?"

_Why did they have to repeat your statements as questions? _"No, I didn't. Someone might have, but I did not."

"Why not?"

"What would you have me do?...Sorry I know your children are critically injured, maybe dying, but pat me on the back and thank me because I did my job." And that had nothing to do with the other issue of, '_And by the way, here is the engagement ring that he turned into a promise ring because I was too much of a coward to do anything at that moment other than look like a fish out of water and tell him he deserved someone better rather than the yes he was hoping for.'_

"You don't like recognition, do you?" Dr. Zucker was busy looking around the room and so missed the sadness that would have clued him in that something was not as straight forward as he was being told. Instead of seeing the 'patient', he looked at the staged room. The only acknowledgments in the room were the numerous degrees so families coming in knew she was qualified, but there were no awards or even letters of thanks like she was bound to have accumulated over the years. He noticed that there was no other real personalization...no photos of family or friends, the pictures of flowers on the wall all looked like general mass-produced prints. "So keeping your friend from bleeding out in front of the building and performing the life saving techniques on her brother was just your job? No emotional attachment?"

She liked recognition, worked her ass off for it, but she was used to it professionally as people sought her out for her opinion and expertise, or by publishing journal articles and occasionally giving lectures. She wasn't used to it from those she really wanted it from on a personal level, and so receiving recognition in that setting felt...odd. And no emotional attachment, HA! If only he knew. "I'm a doctor, that IS my job: whether to not harm the dignity of those dead more than necessary to be able to speak for them, to comfort and try to help those grieving, or trying to save lives until backup can come...time to fall apart later." She took some calming breaths as she tried to swallow down the anger she was feeling both at the situation two weeks ago and at the annoying man in front of her.

"And did you fall apart later?" He needed to know if she was dealing with the emotions or just burying them all.

Maura remembered crying on Korsak after the IA interview, "Yes." Just thinking about that time made her too weary to elaborate even if she wanted to ...which she didn't.

"You mentioned before the family rallying together. Who do you go to when you grieve? Because even if you didn't know Frankie all that well, it would still be natural to grieve for your friend's loss."

If he knew about her and Frankie, or even suspected, he would never buy any of what she was saying or how calm she was able to project most of the time. Usually she would have gone to Jane, and then later to Frankie when they started seeing each other. She couldn't do either then as Jane was busy grieving, and Frankie was dead so could offer no comfort. "Usually I would talk to Jane, but as she was already grieving, I didn't want to burden her. I came back here to inform her partners," _well eventually,_ "and Korsak and I talked a bit." Okay, so there were a lot of blatant holes, but no outright lies by leaving out Frankie from the list, or that at that time, while she did talk to Korsak, it wasn't as emotionally charged as Dr. Zucker might assume.

"Why didn't you join the family with the grieving process? It would have made sense as you were there there and you've been waiting with them for so long?"

'_Would have been anything but natural,_' she thought. "I didn't want to intrude on a family moment." And she was trying to stay strong, for them, for herself...and that would have shattered that illusion.

"Why is it not natural?"

_Crap_, Maura didn't think she had said that aloud.

"Usually it's natural to cry and grieve then rather than holding emotions in."

"Not really."

"So you don't feel emotions as strongly as others?" Dr. Zucker wondered if training or issues with how her brain worked.

"My hypothalamus and amygdala work just fine, Dr. Zucker. It's more upbringing. It was heart-warming to see Frankie's friends and family express their feelings." She showed more then her mother would have ever thought seemly in public.

_Training it is._ From the way she said it, Dr. Zucker knew there was more there, "And that's not the norm in your family?"

"No. I remember the first funeral I ever went to. Mother was not happy when she caught me crying my eyes out and my nose running."

* * *

7-year old Maura looked at herself in the full length mirror on the back of her bedroom door. She was not happy with the outfit her nanny had put on her today. The black tights, shiny patent leather shoes, and a boring black dress; her hair even looked severe as it was in a tight french braid. She knew her parents liked her in nice 'proper' clothes, but at least there was usually a bit of color. The only saving grace for the outfit was that, if she spun real fast in a circle, the skirt would flair out. At least they were going to see grandpa today; he would like to see her twirl even if her parents would complain.

"Don't let you parents see you doing that," her long time friend and nanny chided even though there was a hint of amusement that Maura never heard from her parents when they would tell her not to do something.

"I won't. I'm just going to show grandpa."

Sharron wasn't sure why she was shocked to know she needed to clarify the situation. Mr. and Mrs. Isles were not the best when it came to dealing with children. At times she was surprised that the posh family adopted a child. "What did your parents tell you about today?"

"That we were going to see grandpa, and that he is asleep and won't wake up...but I know a trick that gets him every time."

Sharron closed her eyes and wondered what she could add to try and make Maura understand about death, but she would learn soon enough. She knew she would be the one to deal with the fall out when Maura would cry behind closed doors, but she couldn't bring herself to destroy the little bit of happiness that she had at this moment.

* * *

When Maura entered her grandparents large estate, she noticed that there were a lot of people in black. It must be one of those boring parties that her parents seemed to really enjoy. She heard even more people talking in a few of the larger side rooms, but she wasn't really curious about them because she was just looking for her grandpa. When she looked to the left parlor, she saw that the room wasn't how it usually was. While her parents walked forward to join the crowd, Maura's curiosity got the better of her, so she entered the almost empty parlor. She smiled as she saw the sole occupant was also the person she was looking for. She wondered why he was asleep in a polished wooden box with gold handles on the outside and silky white bedding; it didn't look comfortable to really sleep on let alone in, but she did love her grandpa for his quirky ways from most of the family.

She dragged one of the many chairs facing her sleeping grandpa over so that she could reach him better. She noticed that he wasn't snoring, so he couldn't be deeply asleep. Maybe he was just playing and waiting 'til she got close so he could tickle her. He was good at tickling and didn't mind if her laughs got really loud or shrill like her parents did. She stood on the chair and pulled out the proven method of waking him up. She pinched his nose shut. Any moment now he would give a deep snort and then start tickling her in retaliation until she couldn't breathe. Her brow pinched together when the usual outcome didn't occur. She went to shake his shoulder and saw that he wasn't moving at all. Something was wrong with that. She tried to stand really still to see if she could do it, but unless she held her breath, she couldn't stop her chest from moving. She tried to hold her breath but couldn't do it for long, so she covered her mouth as she held her breath. All too soon she was forced to take in a deep lungful of air and she felt the warm breath hit her hands. She put her hand at her grandpa's mouth but there was no warmth there, or even when she touched his pale wrinkled skin. Mother said that he was asleep and wouldn't wake up, but Maura knew you still breathed when you were asleep. Tears started pouring down her face at the conclusion of her childish experiments. He wasn't there to try and wake up. He wouldn't be there to encourage her to still have fun and spin and be a messy kid at times. She leaned over and clung to his neck as she continued to soak her grandpa's good blue button up shirt with her tears.

She wasn't sure how long she was there. Pretty long based the large wet stain on his shoulder. Her grip wasn't strong enough to resist as her mother pulled her away and placed her on the floor. She was going to explain that grandpa wasn't asleep, but noticed a brief flicker of sadness on her mother's face as she looked at her father as so thought she probably knew. Then all to soon, Maura saw the disappointed gaze her mother take in her appearance. Maura was quickly led to the nearest restroom. Whenever someone would stop to offer her mother condolences, she noticed that her view of them was blocked...and so was their view of her as if her mother didn't want them to see the tear stains and runny nose of a grieving granddaughter. The minute they entered the restroom, Maura's mother grabbed one of the decorative washcloths from the marble counter that were usually folded into fans. Even with the softness of the cloth, the speed her mother took to clean her face still made her skin hurt. Sharron knew how to do this a lot better.

"No more crying, Maura. It's a natural part of life. Be a strong girl today for your mother."

Maura liked learning about how stuff worked, but she didn't like this part no matter how natural it was. And she didn't want to be a strong girl if that meant she wasn't supposed to cry on the worst day of her life. Throughout the day, Maura did her usual people watching. No one cried. At least Sharron would hold her later as she cried and complained about her day. And for once in her life, Maura wished she was home instead of at her grandparents' house.

* * *

"So you learned that public displays of affection and grief weren't allowed, only hidden behind closed doors." It wasn't a question.

"At least not in my family." Her mother would not have been happy to see how her daughter behaved at Frankie's funeral. Even at her father's funeral, neither of them cried. "It was good to be able to cry at times Sunday without worrying what others there would think as they were all crying too." She now had a new worst day of her life, but she was glad to be able to grieve in a more natural way. And even though she did struggle at times to minimize how she showed her emotions, at least it was for the good cause of helping out her dear friend rather than just because her parents thought showing emotions was unseemly.

"So have you really started dealing with all that has happened recently?"

"For the most part," at least logically. But it was like looking at the world through colored glass...not rose colored glasses as there was nothing nice about the situation that she could even TRY to see, but more like sunglasses as it didn't hurt to look out at the world, but all the color was muted.

Dr. Zucker glanced across the desk and looked at the women in front of him. He knew he would sign the form so that she could go back into the field. She seemed to be dealing with the emotions as well as she knew how. It wouldn't be fair to penalize her for what she was taught, and with 39 years of teaching and practice, it would probably take until she retired to even try and make a dent in changing it. It wouldn't effect how she did her job as she had worked like that for years, so it was in everyone's best interest for Dr. Isles to be allowed to do what she did best. He stood up as Maura did, shook her hand, and started toward the door. As he opened the door he looked back, "It was nice talking to you."

Maura could not say likewise so she just replied, "Good day, Dr. Zucker." She walked over to the door and locked it. She was so tired, and not just because she hadn't been sleeping well. She walked back over and sat behind her desk again. She tapped her fingers on the desk before opening up the center desk drawer and pushed the organizer back so that she could see the laughing picture of herself and Frankie. After a few tear filled moments, she covered the picture back up and shut her desk drawer as she closed the door on her thoughts and emotions. She pulled the manilla folders back in front of her and started looking over tox reports and old notes to deal with those deaths easier to handle.

* * *

AN: 'fun' dealing with the whys of Maura: hiding, love, emotionally a bit stunted-Maura really does think she is dealing with stuff as she feels and shows much more than she was taught to. Learns not as well as she thinks after Jane learns about her and Frankie...min 4 weeks because Jane needs to be back on duty cause I already wrote it and don't want to change it lol.

Oi, never again writing about elderly falling...researching that as the call came in that grandpa fell and now has a hairline fracture of his C-7 vertebrae...irony sucks!


	18. Chapter 18

DISCLAIMER: I do not own this show, the books, or these characters. I only borrow them.

**Chapter 18**

For the last week, Jane didn't do much. She didn't really want to face the day and the harsh truths that the bright light brought with it. She only got up and moved when her bladder would complain, or when her conscious, which currently sound like Dr. Isles on a mission, reminded her that she needed to walk enough to keep her circulation working correctly and to keep from losing any more muscle mass. Even that little amount of walking hurt her physically, and with the addition of the emotional pain that came with wakefulness, getting the bare minimum of steps that she did take seemed to take so much effort. She preferred the blissful fog of sleep for both pains when she would finally lay back down in Frankie's bed, taking pain medication only when it was so bad that it kept her from reaching the comfort of sleep.

For the last week, Angela played too many roles and was getting tired of everything. She was wife, mother, nurse, cook, and she was thinking that, to get Jane moving, she might have to become Drill Sargent too. For the last week she brought up light meals as the surgeon told Jane she would have to slowly work her way back to her normal on-the-run, heavy diet as she was still recovering from abdominal surgery. Angela didn't mind bringing the meals up for awhile as she saw from the few times her daughter would emerge to go the the restroom or shuffle around Frankie's room that she was still in a lot of pain, and she didn't know how the stairs would be. But it had been a week now, and enough was enough. She could not continue to watch as her daughter's spirit died in front of her; there was already too much grief

Angela thought for a second about just poking her head into the room to see how her daughter was faring, but she knew she needed to pull out the bigger guns to get her daughter to move. She would have gone with the tried and true of dousing her child in cold water, but she knew that Jane's surgeon still warned about getting the healing wounds too wet until he had a chance to see her at their follow-up appointment the next day. She opened the door wide and walked to the foot of the bed, and the mound of pillows and daughter that were buried somewhere under the navy blue comforter. She started pulling the covers away from Jane feet, at least she hoped so. She knew better by now not to shake either of her cop kids awake or be within arm range, well, now just Jane, as more often than not in their sleep addled brain they assumed some threat...thereby they became the threat; Jane seemed even more on alert lately as Frank learned two nights ago as he tried to comfort his daughter and got an elbow to the ribs before the pain from the quick movement forced Jane out of her nightmare.

Jane heard the slight squeak of the door as it was pushed open. She didn't hear footsteps coming closer on the carpeted floor, but she did feel the movement of the blankets before her face was unburied and she had to close her eyes against the bright sunlight in the room. She cracked one eye open and tried to glare as well as she could with one squinting eye. "Don't you knock, let along wait for a 'come in'?" Jane propped herself up on her right elbow.

"Why? You'd just ignore me." She did have a point there. "Time to get up, walk around, wash up..."

"I'm still not supposed to get my wounds wet, remember," Jane sneered sarcastically.

And with that Jane was reminded where she got her scowl from. "You can at least wash up a bit, brush you teeth. Hell, I will even go downstairs and get the plastic wrap if you want to take a quick bath which you were told you could do as long as you didn't sit too long." She sat down on the edge of the bed so that she could look at Jane's face better. "At least come downstairs and get something to eat." That got a little bit of response as Jane couldn't help the slight smile that tugged at her lips. That was always the way to fix everything in Italian families ...with food. "But you need to get up and do something, anything."

Jane kept the smile as she sarcastically shot back, " I'm surprised you aren't happy that I'm not pushing to go back to work yet so no chance of getting shot." She saw the pained look that replaced the worried look on her Ma's face, and Jane ran her last statement through her mind and her eyes went wide as she realized what she had just said. The stabbing pain in her chest now had nothing to do with her wounds from two weeks ago, but from hurting her mother, "Sorry, Ma."

She leaned back and stared up at the ceiling as she heard her mom leaving the room as the door again squeaked as her mother partially closed it behind her while letting Jane know that lunch would be on the table soon if she was hungry. She stared up at the ceiling and was glad to not see the pink canopy that draped over her childhood bed, but instead the glow-in-the-dark stars that Frankie had stuck on his ceiling once when he was going through his 'I want to be an astronaut' stage. She hated her girly bed, but she would gladly deal with her own bed if it meant that he was here to need his. Finally the thin walls between their rooms would have been worthwhile as the warring siblings could have yelled back and forth as they both healed. They could do what they always did by driving their Ma nuts; now it was just her driving her Ma nuts by fluctuating between doing nothing or lashing out. Anger seemed to come naturally, and, when she didn't hold on to that emotion, she felt deflated, like everything else took too much effort...and not just the physical effort she was already dealing with as she slowly recovered.

Finally the smells of food cooking drifted up and tickled at her nose. Her stomach growled loudly, and she knew that her Ma was fed up enough to withhold food unless Jane would get her ass downstairs and to the table. Jane threw the comforter and sky blue sheet back and was tempted to burrow back under them as the cool air-conditioned air hit her bare feet. She took a deep breath to help motivate her into moving and realized that her mother was right about at least one thing...she was ripe.

She wandered throughout the various rooms upstairs: her parent's bedroom to get one of her father's few button up shirts as she remembered how difficult it was to put on the Red Sox t-shirt of Frankie's that she had commandeered a couple days earlier; her room to grab underwear and another pair of sweatpants as they seemed to be the only thing that was semi comfortable near the surgical incision that almost reached her waistline; grabbed a couple large comfortable towels and a soft washcloth from the linen closet before she finally headed into the bathroom. While she used the toilet, washed her hands, and then brushed her teeth, she wondered how she was going to do as her mother wished...and she wished too now as it was pointed out just how much she needed to wash up. She pondered the bathtub as she awkwardly removed her dirty clothes. She didn't want to try a shower as just the thought of the harsh, hot water beating down on her abused skin sounded painful, and she didn't think she would be able to get back up if she sat down in the tub. Finally she turned the shower on lukewarm and poked her head through the shower curtain to lean over and get it wet, then moved out of stream to lather lots of shampoo through her tangled, sweaty mess of dark brown hair. She was glad that her parents used shampoo and conditioner in one as there was less work involved now, and she MIGHT be able to get a brush through it later. She almost gave herself a concussion when she leaned forward again to rinse out her hair as her balance was still off. She wasn't sure if she got all the soap out, but that would be preferable than the blood that might get stuck in it if she would fall head first into the sage green tile wall. She wrapped the wet hair in one of the towels she brought in. She didn't think she would be able to raise her shaking arms up enough again to do more, so she would have to ask for her mom's help with drying and brushing it later.

Just washing her hair had used up most of the energy Jane had currently. She had planned to stand in front of the sink as she washed up, but she knew that was out as she didn't think her legs were going to follow commands now that she was sitting on the closed toilet. She was grateful for the carpet-like dark green cover on the lid when she had all but fallen on her ass a few moments ago; it was a good thing that the slightly cushioned seat was there to catch her on the way down. She slowly leaned over the sink sideways and reached for the knobs in order to fill the sink with clean water. Lathering up an old soft washcloth she washed and rinsed as well as she could. She at least smelled like some flowery concoction rather than like caked on sweat and wound 'gunk'. She dried off with another large towel and then draped it on the floor as she noticed a very large puddle on the floor, the lid cover was soaked, and the sink from the basin to herself wasn't immune to the destruction she caused. She thought it was funny how the effort of getting clean made her almost need it again as she was sweating from the workout and didn't know if she could move much more. She briefly thought of calling for help, but it was too embarrassing to think that she needed help moving and getting dressed, she didn't want to find out how much yelling would hurt her chest, plus she would still have to somehow get over and unlock the door at least if she didn't need Ma to get the nearest metal coat hanger to pop the lock. Somehow she managed to get dressed in the gray sweatpants and blue button up work shirt of her father's. Now she just hoped she could stand up without slipping on the floor and injuring herself even more.

She wasn't sure how long she sat in the destroyed bathroom, slowly breathing and trying to talk herself into moving. Finally she forced herself to her feet and shuffled toward the mouth watering smell that got her moving in the first place. All too soon she reached the top of the staircase and wondered how in the hell she was supposed to get down them. "Ma," she knew her mother would be nearby and so she didn't raise her voice too much above normal. When she saw the person of interest poke her head out of the kitchen door, Jane asked, "You sure I can't sled down the stairs? Just this once." She could hear the hint of a whine in her voice, but she was too tired, too hungry, and in too much in pain to care.

"The last time you and your brothers tried that there was bloodshed. I think it was Tommy who broke his nose, and you ended up with a nasty scrape on your elbows."

Okay, so the rug burn really smarted, but she'd take that over trying to use the stairs correctly, and the railing wasn't slide-able as it was part of the living room wall, or she might have tried that. She finally made it down the stairs, even though it took over five minutes as she had to sit down at the half-way mark. This lack of strength and stamina was really getting to her, so as she walked into the kitchen she ask, "Ma, can you call about physical therapy?" She wanted to get back in shape so she could get back to work and nail assholes like Marino again.

"So you're finally going to get up for more then just walking across the hall to the bathroom. Good." Angela leaned over to kiss her daughter on the cheek as she set down a steaming bowl of real minestrone in front of her daughter. Much better then the crap in a can.

"Sorry, Ma," Jane said as the food was put in front of her. Then she pulled away a bit and wiped off her cheek. Had to keep up appearances, even if she was grateful for her Ma's fussing...some of the time. She wondered why the wonderful smell of the simmering soup didn't pull her downstairs sooner. Ma must have opened the lid to try and flush her out of the room. Sneaky, but so like her.

"Don't apologize, we all grieve differently."

"So how full is the freezer with precooked meals," Jane couldn't help chuckling before taking a bite and quickly going for the water as the soup was still hot enough to burn. She really wished she was allowed something stronger to drink.

"It's not. There are none." At Jane's speculative glare Angela went on, "I kept giving them away. Mr. Scarlotti from across the street brought up the fact that it usually works in reverse when families suffer a loss. Told him I hope to never have to do this again to learn it correctly." She couldn't help but gazing at Jane with worry in her eyes.

"Sorry about my comment earlier...I didn't think." Jane was surprised to hear her mom laugh at that comment.

"You always have been good at rushing in feet first without any thought of hesitation or doubt. It's what makes you a good cop, but I still worry. I can't lose you, too." She pulled her daughter over sideways for a quick, light hug. "Plus, I think you get that from me. Your father has had to deal with lots this last week as I keep speaking without thinking first." She didn't comment more.

Jane saw the worried frown on her Ma's face, but knew her mother didn't want to talk about it as she went back to cleaning up the already spotless counter tops. At least Jane could give her something productive to do. "Could you help me with my hair and new bandages." She knew it was a good thing to ask as her mother just smiled at her before leaving the room to get the supplies.

She grabbed up the now half empty bowl of soup and wandered out in the living room to get more comfortable. Sitting upright for so long on the hard chair was really hurting.

Fifteen minutes later the bowl sat empty on the table, all the bandages on Jane's chest, stomach, and back had been replaced, and Angela was lightly brushing out the still damp locks on her daughter's head. "I miss brushing your hair. You wanted to be independent and do it yourself too soon," she mused thinking about the times she helped Jane get ready for school when she was much younger.

"Yea, you liked pigtails WAY too much." The rhythmic brushing, along with the pain pill she took after her soup was finished, were pulling her toward the comfort of sleep again. She thought briefly about pulling herself up the stairs and into Frankie's bed, but she was so tired, and she didn't want the added pain of traversing the stairs, especially knowing that her Ma would now probably want her downstairs for dinner too. Her debate about where to sleep was solved for her as her eyes finally closed as she was pulled under.

* * *

The light was dimmer and Jane was covered in a light-weight blanket when she woke up. She wondered what woke her: her pain wasn't great but it was manageable; the dimmer light told her that night was settling in, and so it was time to normally sleep; she was comfortably toasty. She finally heard the quiet yet heated voices. She glanced at the dark television screen to rule out the sound coming from some pathetic reality show. Listening intently, she realized two things: the sound was coming through the closed kitchen door, and her parents sounded angry.

She heard bits from her Ma's shrill voice she used when she was angry or upset. Something about home for dinner especially on Sunday like usual. Jane didn't even realize it was Sunday again as the days got mixed up with all the sleep and not needing to keep track of the days of the week to count when she got her little bit of time off. She closed her eyes briefly and silently cried out for her baby brother as she was reminded that just one week ago he was laid to rest. She heard bits from her dad's clipped words that he used when he was angry too. Something about needing the extra work because of additional bills and didn't know Jane could get downstairs yet to even have a 'family' dinner. Jane realized that they were all falling apart at the seams. Was Frankie really the glue that kept dinner and game night fun and light? His playful banter always did help ease tensions rather then riling up everyone as Jane was so good at. She wondered if she could try to be that glue for the family, but she knew she was too abrasive to try and fill that role, and she wasn't the dutiful child like Frankie was as he called and visited more. _Damn it, Frankie, more is dying and being buried here than just you. _She didn't even try to stop the lone tear that was able to escape down her cheek.

She wanted to get up and go listen at the door like she often did growing up, but she wasn't as fit currently as she was as a child. The pain-filled, "Shit," did bring her parents argument to a close much quicker than Frankie's calm words ever did. For once she was sad she knew she would heal, as she wouldn't be able to help out in arguments down the road...unless someone needed her to come in the fray and use her fists. Both of her parents came out of the kitchen: her Ma with a glass of water so she could take one of the pain pills from the bottle on the coffee table; her father with a forced smile as he said hello before kissing Jane on the forehead.

"Why don't I bring dinner out here?" Angela remembered Jane mentioning earlier how the chairs hurt. Before anyone could say anything for or against the idea, she was in the kitchen preparing three plates.

Jane wasn't really sure what they ate for dinner that night. She hated the feeling of tension in the air. She couldn't get her muscles to relax as she was used to her work, where the current feel in the room usually lead to violence that she would have to jump in to try and quell. She didn't think her parents were going to get into fisticuffs, but she did know she wouldn't be able to help out if they did come to blows. The stilted silence and the burning of straining tense muscles she hadn't used in awhile had her quickly finishing off her plate, taking a pain pill, and explaining that she was tired and was going to bed. As she passed both of her parents, she said, "good night," and gave them a brief shoulder squeeze as she knew she wouldn't be able to lean over to give them hugs.

She made it up the stairs in less time than it took to descend them; granted, she had a feeling much of that was as she was able to at least do the flight part of the fight-or-flight response that had her so on edge. She was thrilled to enter the safety of Frankie's room after a quick pit-stop. She noticed that her mom had been up here sometime earlier as the bed was made. She pulled back the navy comforter with the happy thought of burrowing in the soft mattress under the mounds of sheets and covers that still slightly smelled like her brother. He couldn't give her a hug anymore, even though she would swear to anyone who asked that she couldn't stand her brother or his hugs, but she could feel safe in the embrace of the bedding. She was brought to a halt when she realized the sheets were beige.

Jane all but collapsed as she sat on the edge of the bed. She pulled over the closest pillow to her chest and took a deep breath, only smelling the clean scent of the detergent her mom used. She couldn't even hope that the sheets were just in the hamper as she had heard the dryer running during the silence of dinner. She wanted those sheets as they still smelled like Frankie. Okay, they were also starting to pick up the smell of her sweat, and the odd smell that always seems to linger around the ill: not quiet, the hospital smell as no overwhelming sense of cleaners or the smell of death and disease, but sweat and discharge from weeping wounds...at least they could weep as they healed. She was too numb to weep and knew she wasn't healing at all emotionally. She closed out the world as she curled up on her side and hid under the clean smelling sheets.

* * *

AN: Okay, if any other nutters in the US out there who like autographed stuff...Tess Gerritsen's blog on her website has an address to send a SASE if you want a signed bookmark while she still has em...did as of last week. Drools. I was impressed...real scribbles not just printed :) Yes, I'm odd! (She needs to tour closer to my house lol)


	19. Chapter 19

DISCLAIMER: I do not own this show, the books, or these characters. I only borrow them.

**Chapter 19**

Monday after her discussion with Dr. Zucker, Dr. Isles was about to go out in the field for the first time since the debacle at headquarters. She was walking out her office door when her cell phone went off, "Dr. Isles."

"Hey Doc," Detective Frost's voice came out strongly over the phone, "I heard your coming out with us to the latest crime scene. You might want to change. I've been told the scene is a wreck...so jeans and tennis shoes worthy." Frost actually regretted having to tell Maura to change as it was always interesting to watch her navigate around the mess and horror of a crime scene while looking like a million bucks. The dressed up Doc was always more fun to look at than the gruesome sights that always sent his stomach churning.

"Thanks for the heads up. I'll meet you over there." She was going to ride along with one of the ME techs.

"No problem, we wouldn't want you to trip over the mess and break your neck or anything." Then quieter as he was hanging up, "because Jane would kick my..."

Maura grinned thinking he was probably right as she made sure the door was locked before walking over to the restocked closet. She kicked off her heels and draped the dark blue dress she had been wearing over the nearest chair. She pulled the blue jeans and the comfortable black square necked longed sleeved shirt off their hangers and quickly slipped into them. The shirt color was good for a couple reasons: mourning, and it didn't show many of the stains that might get on them at a messy scene. She hung the dress up on one of the empty hangers and then grabbed the tennis shoes before heading over to the couch. She sat down and tied the laces. She smiled remembering a joyful time of wearing them: running through the yellow police tape slightly ahead of Jane, both out of breath as they came to a halt; the parental hugs while Frankie literally rode circles around the group. Maura wasn't dating him at that time, but she remembered the bright smile he sent her way. She missed that smile.

She went over to her desk and grabbed an elastic band out of the large middle drawer so that she could put her hair up in a quick, low ponytail. Then she grabbed her identification to get her through the crime scene tape and quickly walked out the door to find an ME tech twiddling his thumbs to drag on the case with her.

* * *

Dr. Isles had been to many a messy scene, but this was nothing like what she was imagining. Blood, guts, and decomp was her idea of a messy scene, but she did have to admit that the charred building, blackened debris, and hazardous structure would definitely qualify. She put the offered blue paper booties on her feet before carefully stepping through the house to the back bathroom.

Various people were congregating in the small, smokey room. Detective Korsak was squatting near the blackened body. A man in the normal uniform of a firefighter was near the window. Another man wearing khaki pants, a light blue button up shirt, and wearing a hard hat, while checking out the walls and roof, was filling out a form on the clipboard in his hands. A couple crime scene technicians, one male and one female, were taking pictures of the room and the placement of the body. Six people, not including the dead body, did not fit well in the small bathroom, so Maura told her assistant to wait outside the door with the black body bag.

Detective Korsak's joints cracked when he stood up and stretched. He walked over to the arson investigator and started talking about what possibly happened in this room. "I don't get the feeling there is anything off about the scene. The body's position makes me think she fell or fainted, and the timing just sucked as the fire started. What do you think?"

The older gentleman with tufts of gray hair sticking out around the sides of the hard firefighter's helmet added, "From what I can see so far, I'm thinking the fire was accidental rather than arson. I've seen various puddles of some waxy substance so I think there were numerous candles burning and one was too close to the curtains. The window was up and last night was really windy, and from the burn patterns as the charring is worse around the window, I know the fire started here." He pointed toward the tub, "There was a flare up over there. The individual was probably hoping to relax in a nice environment, with some type of alcohol which acted like an accelerant. It's definitely tragic... and really bad timing."

Dr. Isles hated when investigators would speculate about a crime scene. The body would tell her what she needs to know. She took in the scene with a professional eye. The blackened body lay beside the soot covered, clawfoot bathtub. With the face charred and the hair burned away, Maura was not able to tell if the body was female or male. She heard Korsak mention to one of the technicians that it was a female who rented the house and lived by herself according to the landlord; but without X-rays of the pelvis and teeth, the sex and identity of the individual could not be determined. There were no outward signs of trauma, well, other than the fact that all the skin layers and some of the muscle were burned through. The limbs weren't at an unnatural angle, and no bones were protruding from the body, and so only X-rays would tell her if there were any broken bones. There wasn't much she could do on scene as there was no way to do the normal external examination; she couldn't note bumps, bruises, superficial wounds, or even bullet wounds when the palette on which they would be painted was burned to ash.

Fire, as with water, helped destroy forensic evidence, so it wasn't long before the crime scene technicians left and the ME tech came in with the body bag. There was no way to try and get the gurney through the house, and so they were going to need help to slowly and gently carry the body out. Finally Maura turned to Detective Korsak, "Do you have everything you need here so I can move the body?"

"Yep, not much to do here. Going to be an interesting case on your end I think. Granted if the arson investigator changes his mind about foul play," he nodded over to the man in the firefighter uniform, "or you do...it will be an interesting case for Frost and myself, too."

"They are all interesting cases," she glanced back at Korsak. "So where has your temporary partner gone off to?"

Korsak couldn't swallow the laugh that erupted. "You know Frost. He said he'd do the tiring legwork by talking to some of the neighbors, but when he left he was green around the gills and not looking at the body. I think he was trying not to breath deeply either as the smell of burned flesh was not helping his weak stomach."

The body was gently loaded into the body bag and Korsak called out for an officer to come help carry the occupied bag to the medical examiner's van. Before Maura could follow the procession out, Korsak asked quietly, "How are you doing?"

"Okay...day by day," she placed her hand on his elbow and gave a thin smile in thanks before carefully working her way through the burned mess.

* * *

Back at the morgue, Maura had the technician wheel the body straight to the imaging equipment. First to get dental X-rays in order to get them over to the renter's dentist to see if they could identify the body through that. It was easier than asking a doctor to betray confidentiality by sending dental X-rays to the morgue and quicker than getting a warrant for the information. Most dentists she had ever interacted with were okay with just giving a 'yes' or 'no' until the warrant for more information could come. As she couldn't do an external examination, a full body X-ray was the only way to look for injuries and would also help so she could determine the sex of the deceased.

Dr. Isles went to check out the X-rays as they were being developed. When she finally saw the X-ray of the pelvis, she knew that the body was female. So it didn't rule out the need to check if the body was the renter, Susan Walker. She was glad to determine sex though as she hated having to call a body on her table 'it'. The dead already had so much depersonalization as it was when in front of her...not knowing how to talk to them seemed an additional insult. Luckily it didn't happen too often. However, she would have to be okay with being called 'the female.' Ever since she started working with Jane Rizzoli, Maura had a strong aversion to calling anyone on her table Jane Doe.

The other images didn't show any trauma until she saw the skull. She could see a fracture on the hat brim line, which often occurred in falls as the individual went from standing and fell back, hitting the back of the head on the ground. She noted the break on the forms and knew that she would have to do a very thorough cranial exam. It didn't rule out foul play though as there was still much to check out. She didn't notice any dark white spots in the shape of a bullet, or any shattered bone that would suggest that a bullet went through and through the dense skeleton. So the head wound was the only information about injuries that jumped out at her from the images.

Before starting the internal examination, Dr. Isles had Yoshima help her turn the body to check the burn pattern over the entire body. She noted that there was less burning on the body's back; as the pattern was uniform she knew that for whatever reason the person didn't move during the fire. After the normal Y-incision, and pulling back the skin, the exam was back on usual footing as the charring didn't effect the deeper muscle and organs. Organ weights were within normal range, and were in great shape. It was sad that a life would end so tragically when she could see that the female took care of her body: the liver was the normal color and not spotty so Dr. Isles knew that the female wasn't a heavy drinker; the heart wasn't larger than usual that would show the heart had to work harder than normal; the lungs were those of a non-smoker, at least until the smoke and soot from the house fire. She spoke her findings into a recorder to transcribe later about soot in the trachea and lung tissue; the female was still alive and breathing during the fire. Cause of death would be inhalation of smoke and carbon monoxide, and global charring due to a fire, but she still needed to rule if the cause of her being unconscious on the floor was accidental or something more. Before she finished up that part of the exam, Dr. Isles took a blood sample and got the stomach contents to see if the female was using something that could have impaired her to cause a fall, or if there might have been a disease to cause dizziness and fainting. After learning the identity of the individual, she might learn from medical records that the female had seizures or some other condition...there were still many possible reasons for the fall that caused her to not move while the fire burned.

As she was finishing checking out the thoracic and abdominal cavities, she asked Yoshima to use the circular bone saw to cut through the top of the skull so she could remove the calvarium and look at the brain. Dr. Isles watched him finish the cut and then walked over to the top end of the table in order to remove the skullcap. Right away she was able to see two areas of interest: a primary impact at the site of the skull fracture and a secondary impact of the brain against the frontal bone. Nothing else from the brain or bones grabbed her attention other than those two subdural hematomas and the fracture she noted earlier on the X-ray.

She took off the soiled latex gloves in order to dial up Korsak to let him and Frost know that she had a preliminary report for them.

Moments later the two men wandered into Dr. Isles' domain. Frost was engrossed in the file of information that he brought down with him to help provide a barrier between his eyes and the burned body. Korsak walked straight over to Maura and therefore the autopsy table with the deceased, "So, what's up, Doc?" He just smirked knowing that she really got tired of that line from him.

Maura tried not to roll her eyes. "So far everything points to an accidental death. Something occurred to make her fall backwards. According to the hat brim line rule, if someone falls from standing to flat on their back, the contusions are usually in a straight line around that area." She pointed out the skull fracture on the X-ray. She couldn't help adding some interesting information she read in a Journal of Forensic Science in 2008, "Researchers found that fractures above this line are more often from blows to the head then falls; the majority of contusions to the left side of the head were found to be homicides, while those on the right side were most often caused by falls."

Frost finally looked up and stated, "Thanks, when I need to commit the perfect murder I'll remember to hit someone on the right side." He regretted looking up and quickly had to look back down and swallow bile back down before he finished his thought, "You're better than all those shows about forensics for ideas on how to get around the system and commit the perfect murder." He felt two pairs of eyes burn into him, "Well, as long as Rizzoli's not the one on the case." He grinned at Maura's heated response.

"Don't get me started on the fallibility of all those medical and scientific television shows!"

Korsak chuckled and couldn't help from jumping into the off-topic conversation, "Aww, you're just jealous. I bet you'd be a good adviser on those type of shows."

Maura smirked, "But of course. When either the writers put impossible situations in a scene or the actors don't get the movements correct, I could show them what it'd really be like to end up on my table."

"Nice. First hand experience," Frost peaked over the edge of his file to see Maura as she shook her head wryly and heard Korsak's chuckle turn into a full out guffaw.

Maura shook her head at the odd turn of the conversation. She usually tried to keep humor out of the autopsy suite as much as possible, but even she occasionally needed the release of tension through a good amusing idea. But all too soon, Dr. Isles reined in the discussion to the topic of the deceased. "When I performed the cranial exam, I noted the start of two subdural hematomas from the fall. The person has what is known as a coup-contrecoup injury," at Korsak's puzzled look she pulled him over to the body to help explain. "When she fell, the brain impacted the skull at the fracture site. That's the coup or the primary impact on the brain. The rebound force caused the frontal lobe to impact the skull in a secondary impact, or contrecoup."

"So bouncing around like a pinball?" Korsak questioned to make sure he understood correctly.

Crude but affective to help non-medical personnel understand what happened. "In a sense. The head wound could have been treated if she reached a hospital in time."

"I knew it! The fire was just at the worse possible time." Korsak had inferred as much at the crime scene. He caught the glare from the doctor for the interruption, "Sorry, I'll keep quiet." He mimicked locking his lips with an invisible key and tossing the imagined key over his left shoulder.

If only Maura believed that the invisible lock could hold. "The female was still breathing though when the fire occurred. There was soot in the trachea and the lung tissue, which could only have happened if she was still breathing at the time. But the fall, or maybe a medical condition that caused her to fall, had her deeply unconscious. Either that or the smoke had killed her by the time the fire reached the body. She wasn't responding to pain or she would have moved to try and get away from the cause." She didn't mention that the probability of the female being dead before the fire got to the body was minimal as the arson investigator believed the fire started in that bathroom. The fire would have moved faster than she would have suffocated on the superheated, sooty air. Dr. Isles knew that that fact would have most definitely sent Frost over to one of her sinks, and she didn't want to join him. She was already on edge from this first case on scene after Frankie's death; she didn't think she would be able to add hearing someone being sick to the picture without falling apart herself.

The lip-lock miraculously popped open as Korsak asked, "How do you know she didn't move at all?"

Dr. Isles motioned to the loitering assistant to come over as she put on another pair of latex gloves. They rolled the body slightly so she could show the proof to the detectives, well, at least Korsak as he would look at the body. "Do you see the difference in the burn pattern? How the burns on the back aren't as deep or as blackened?" When he nodded that he saw, she went on. "The less severe burns are where the body was against the floor so the fire couldn't get to it directly. As there was less oxygen there, the fire couldn't burn as well. And as the burn pattern is uniform, it shows that the body never moved from it's position against the ground. If she would have thrashed to try and get away from the fire, parts of the back would have burned more."

Korsak nodded again as the explanation made sense. He even looked over to Frost and saw the intelligent man trying to learn this bit of information with the quickest glance possible.

"I won't give a definite ruling until I see the tox reports. If they come back clean so I can note that she, or someone else, didn't put anything in her system that would have caused the loss of consciousness, I'll finalize the report to say accidental death due to inhalation of smoke and carbon monoxide and global charring due to a fire. So based on that preliminary report, and the one from the arson investigator on scene, there is a good chance you two won't be needed anymore." Maura tried not to smirk as she watched them shuffle out. She knew that the two men really wanted an interesting case to help fill the void of not having their friend and partner around for awhile. But this wasn't going to be the one.

"Yoshima, will you close up and get the blood and stomach samples over to Toxicology." It might have been worded as a question, but they both knew differently.

"Sure, no problem," he had already started as he had worked with her long enough to know the request was coming.

"Thanks," Dr. Isles was taking off the blackened and bloodied paper garments as she headed over to the biohazard waste container. She then grabbed the recorder and notes about the deceased so she could get to work writing up her preliminary report.

* * *

The long day was finally coming to an end. Dr. Isles turned off her computer, grabbed up the bag containing the now soot covered jeans, shirt, and tennis shoes that she removed when she first came back to her office after the autopsy of the still unknown female. She was back in the blue dress and heels, but she left the ponytail in. She grabbed her purse, then slowly and slightly wobbly walked to her car while digging out her keys.

The ride back home was soothing to her weary soul. The few stars she saw twinkling in the darkness reminded her of the twinkling in Frankie's dark eyes as he would laugh. The quiet classical music that was playing on the radio seemed to fit her mood as it started out sad, but very slowly the tone and tempo changed to a more upbeat melody. She knew her feelings were still more in the sad end of her song, but eventually there would be a tempo change...she just hoped it didn't take too long.

She finally pulled into her two-car garage and just sat in her car with her head on the steering wheel until she worked up enough energy to stand up and walk. She staggered into her bedroom to grab the first pair of comfortable pajamas that she came across. She smiled sadly as she saw they were the silk, forest green ones that Frankie really liked...even though he would have sworn that he preferred her out of them if the choice was up to him.

The warm shower she took helped remove the smell of burned wood and flesh and removed the bits of soot that she didn't realize were still in her hair and streaked on her cheek. It also helped wake her up enough to do what she promised herself she would check before the day was over. She wandered out to the hallway and to the closest fire alarm and carbon monoxide alarm. The green light let her know that the battery was still working okay, and a quick push of a button let her know that they were working properly as the shrill sound blared out. She wandered to the next pair in her kitchen and repeated the process.

Maura watched as Bass pulled his head into his shell to try and hide from the scary sounds. Grabbing a strawberry from the fridge, she went and knelt in front of her friend. "Here you go. Sorry about the noise." She patted the shell that reminded her of the feel of smooth wood. Before she could stand back up, Jo came over to see what fun was going on without her. Maura grabbed the pesky puppy up before she could once again steal the strawberry from her friend as he was often slow to brave coming back out. Jo definitely took after his owner – fearless and full of energy. Maura let the small dog out the back door so she could run around the backyard and take care of her business. All too soon the little dog was back in the house and glancing around for her owner. "You'll both be home before you know it," she grabbed a dog biscuit hoping that the treat would curb Jo's desire to steal Bass's. Maura doubted it though. As she all but fell into her bed, she smiled thinking about the antics of the two very different friends...again, just like their owners.

* * *

The mail was pushed through the small slot that the food usually came through, or his hands were put through if he needed to be cuffed before a guard would take him out of the cell. Charles Hoyt looked at the opened envelope from some female who wanted to learn about him and what made him tick. She was a bit of an annoyance, but he might find some use for her later so he decided to keep up a general correspondence. That piece of mail did not interest him as much as the still closed large manila envelope. Only mail used to communicate between an attorney and inmate was not searched as they still were afforded that privilege – attorney/client privilege was it when in solitary.

Hoyt's lawyer was a good defense attorney who wanted the fame that would come with the trial of a alleged serial killer. He was a good lawyer, but he was a fool when it came to knowing people and when he himself was being played. Hoyt had asked his lawyer to send him any information he could get on Jane Rizzoli. He said it might be able to help his case, and so the man had been sending pictures, new information, and even newspaper articles when he could hide it between other court documents that Hoyt might need to look over. The package was better than any Christmas present. The giddiness that he felt when he wondered what treasure might be wrapped up in the legal documents.

All too soon the 'wrapping' was off, and Hoyt was left with a newspaper article from a week ago. The article stated in it's bold heading, **Boston Police Reeling From Another Tragic Death**. It included two pictures: a smiling Officer Rizzoli, and a picture of a grieving family. As he stared at the picture of Frankie, he was pissed that someone was able to hurt Jane this way...and it wasn't him; but then knew that blow was just the completion of what he wanted 'Lola' to do a little over three months ago. Next he glanced at the other picture. He couldn't move his gaze from the family picture as he hungrily took in every tiny detail of the family at the cemetery: the father holding the mother holding a folded flag, beside his Jane...who was holding Dr. Isles' hand while trying to look strong. He glared at the insufferable doctor. The emotionless bitch he talked with awhile ago was pretending to feel for her friend and offer comfort. He thought about that he schooled his features into a sympathetic gaze...the hand she was holding was his...had his mark.

Hoyt thought about that time after he talked to the annoying doctor. The lovely time when Jane barged into the interview room and started yelling at him. His lawyer wasn't present, and he was accosted by one of his 'victims' who was also a cop...she could have set him up in retaliation for his actions in the musty basement. It wouldn't be enough to get him out of jail, but he and his lawyer _might_ be able to spin it to get him out of solitary. He gathered up his few pieces of clean paper and the stub of a pencil and started writing a hurried note back to his lawyer telling him all about the police brutality. He smiled menacingly as the words bled from the pencil...he loved brutality.

* * *

AN: I know this one was different then most chapters so far, but the story is outlined for 9-12 months and some things take a really long time to set-up; Hoyt will pop up in tiny bits for quite some time. Plus working on getting the work stuff going as that's where much of the fun interactions happen.

Happy season premiere Monday...yea!


	20. Chapter 20

DISCLAIMER: I do not own this show, the books, or these characters. I only borrow them.

**Chapter 20**

Maura knew that Jane was being checked out by her surgeon Monday, the same time that Dr. Isles was in a burned out bathroom. She had planned to go into the office late on Tuesday so she could go get the information about the appointment from the source, but the office called about toxicology reports finally coming back for an old case that she had been trying to close for awhile. The parents of the 27 year old pregnant woman were trying to find out what really happened to their daughter. On top of that, it was the last probable victim for a serial killer who was sitting in lock up at a nearby maximum security prison, Plymouth County Correctional Facility. Maura knew he was sitting in the same isolation wing as Charles Hoyt. Only 40 miles and a lot of barbed wire and guards keeping those two killers away from Boston, their playground of choice. Dr. Isles knew she needed to get the results written up as soon as possible so she could send it over to the homicide detectives who had worked the case last year, but also to the District Attorney to determine if there was additional information to use in the court case he was preparing against Jonathon Miller.

Between that work, numerous bodies ending up in the morgue Wednesday due to a major pile-up on I-93, and contacting Susan Walker's mother after getting the response from her dentist that the charred body on the autopsy table Monday and the house renter were one in the same, Dr. Isles was not able to get a free morning until Friday in order to stop by the Rizzoli's Revere home. It was odd for Maura and Jane not to see each other for so long. Before, at most they would go two days if they were both lucky enough to get the full weekend off and not be called in. Now it was going on almost two weeks rather than two days. Slightly past 8:30 Friday morning, Maura opened up the screen door in order to knock on the wooden one, but, before she could raise her hand, the door was being opened.

"Hey stranger, long time no see." Jane had been watching out the front room window for her friend after the quick phone call Maura made earlier to make sure it was a good time to pop in. After her mom all but dragged her out of Frankie's room nearly a week ago, Jane had been waking up no later then 7:30am. She would wake up and take a walk before breakfast. She was now able to make it down to the corner before she would be forced to turn around. She worried about trying the whole block yet, afraid that she would get halfway around before the pain would literally knock her feet out from under her. The black sweat pants and red t-shirt she was wearing were fitting better than they did when she came home from the hospital. Between her Ma's rich cooking and the increase of muscle mass as she started her physical therapy, the clothes didn't hang on her as they had; granted, she still had a ways to go before she was back to pre-shooting standards.

Jane stepped back to allow Maura to walk into the living room. After shutting and locking the door behind her, the two friends wandered over to the tan slip-covered couch. By the time that Jane had slowly lowered herself down to the comfortable seat, Maura was already seated. Jane thought Maura looked like she needed a nap more than she herself did; which was saying a lot considering the fact that she would usually end up falling back asleep in about an hour. "Are you okay? You look...off."

Maura couldn't help the grateful smile that caused her tired eyes to light up in amusement, "Isn't that supposed to be my line?" She noticed that Jane was having issues turning her torso to face her and chat, so Maura moved over to the recliner so they were at least closer to being across from each other. "It's been a really long week. Monday there was a burned body, and I can't seem to get away from the smell; as taste is effected by smell, for instance when you have a cold and you have a stuffy nose, you can't smell anything so food doesn't taste like it should..."

"I thought that was just because when your sick you get really boring and bland food."Jane couldn't help but joke.

"...even my toast this morning tasted burnt. It's even been determined that color can effect taste, but even seeing the toast a nice golden brown didn't help it not taste burnt."

Maura didn't add the fact that her stomach was rebelling, but Jane was used to the look on her partner's face to know what it was. "Ma," Jane knew that her mother was already in the kitchen starting the sauce for dinner later that night. When her mom stuck her head out the door Jane asked, "Do we have any ginger ale or 7-Up?" Jane threw her gaze over to Maura to clue her mother in.

A couple minutes later, Angela walked out of the kitchen with a glass of iced ginger ale, and handed it over to Maura.

It took Maura a second to realize the glass was pushed in front of her face rather than given to Jane. "No thanks, I'm fine."

Angela couldn't help the chuckle, "I have three children." She tried not to pause long as her mind pointed out the fact that she only had two left, "I think by now I know when one looks ill and run down or not. Granted, with Jane it was always looking fine but saying she was dying so she couldn't go to school." After Maura took the drink, Angela gazed fondly at her daughter. "My personal favorite is still when you used the red permanent marker to give yourself chicken pox."

Maura chuckled as she heard Jane groan at the memory; she was glad that she had already swallowed her drink or it would not have been pretty. She needed that laugh after the hellish week she had. The ginger ale didn't hurt either she soon realized. She glanced at Angela, "Thank you," for the drink, for the laugh...for her son. Before her mood could darken, she asked, "So this marker incident...?"

Jane mock glared at her mother, "Thanks, Ma." Her thanks had a bit more bite and also laughter behind it than Maura's had. "I had a test that I didn't study for...history, I think it was. I hated history...too boring, and hard to memorize." She raised her index finger before Maura could point out something about the brain and memorization or some such nonsense.

Granted Angela was able to interject as she sat down on the arm of the couch, "She told me she had no homework or studying to do the night before and ended up playing street hockey until dark."

"Anyway, my bright idea the next day was to play sick. I'd tried the thermometer on the light one to many times..."

"No, it was easy to figure out you were lying when your temperature came back at 108.4º once."

Maura couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of her mouth almost like the soda bubbling in her glass. At Jane's questioning glance oscillating between the two women near her, Maura decided to put Jane out of her misery, "106ºF is generally the glass ceiling for fevers." Then she glanced at Angela and grinned conspiratorially, "You could have threatened to take a rectal temperature. I bet that would have quickly got her moving."

Jane looked like a fish out of water with Maura's latest comment, "Maura!" She then threw another disgruntled look toward her mother, "Now you tell me. I just thought Ma was really good at figuring out lies...or Frankie ratted me out."

"He did about you having a test that day," Angela smiled as she seemed to literally be gazing into the past.

"That little weasel. Anyway...long story short, Ma knew I was faking and so sent me to school...with the dots. I tried to wash them off before first period, but, as Ma mentioned...it was a permanent marker. Took a week to finally scrub those off, and the kids had way to much fun at my expense."

Angela cracked up, "So did I."

"Technically you didn't wash the marker off so much as the keratinised cells that make up the surface layer of your skin was replaced with the new skin cells that were developed in the deepest layer of the epidermis," Maura threw out.

With that bit of scientific knowledge, both the Rizzoli women seemed at a lose for words. With the conversation at a good stopping point anyway, Angela started to go back into the kitchen. She glanced back at the two tired girls when she reached the door. "Why don't you two wander upstairs. Get out of my hair so I can clean up down here."

"That's our clue to run before she puts us to work," Jane slowly stood up and started toward the stairs, "Okay, walk as fast as possible." It didn't matter that the house looked fairly spotless and dust free. It was Friday and so Ma's weekly once over of the house.

Dr. Isles followed Jane up the stairs so she could check out the improvements the two weeks brought about. She was pleased to note that movement was smoother and quicker than it was the last time they were together. She heard Jane breathing harder but knew that would get back to normal when she started to get her stamina back. Maura was surprised when she followed Jane into the first room on the left; she had only seen the room beyond, and the bathroom across the hall, when she had visited before. This room was decorated in many shades of blue: navy comforter on the bed, the walls made her think of the sky on a stormy day, even the curtains were the same navy as on the bed. She could tell it was a boy's room, but the color coordination was definitely created by a female.

"I like this room much better than mine. I'm blinded less in here."

Maura was curious, "How so? The window in your room faces east just as this one does."

"It's not the sun that bothers me...but the pink," Jane exaggerated a mock shudder.

Maura just shook her head wryly. Hearing the tales of trouble that Jane got into as a kid, Maura was surprised that her friend had never torn down the pink canopy on her bed. Granted, as she was getting to know Angela Rizzoli better, she knew the outcome would be much worse than Jane just being subjected to pink as she fell asleep.

Jane continued chatting, "Tommy got the best room I always thought. He got the car theme; granted, knowing now the issues he has with drunk driving, maybe that was a bad thing. Ma was happy having a girl next and overcompensated with the pink and princess stuff. I think by the time Frankie needed a room, Ma thought it was easier to go with a generic blue for a boy's room."

Maura looked around the room with a new appreciation. She quickly circled the room and took everything in. It was a good thing that both she and Jane worked in professions where noting small details quickly was needed; therefore, Jane didn't think anything was odd about Maura's perusal of the room, and Maura was able to take in the whole room in a short amount of time to not clue Jane in that she was overly interested. She enjoyed seeing this new side of Frankie through his childhood items: model cars and planes were on top of the mahogany dresser, so she knew that he was detail oriented and didn't mind long, often tedious work even as a child; a shelf on the back wall had several dusty trophies for baseball or softball based on the gilded figure on top of the larger ones; near the trophies were a series of ball caps that she assumed were from his teams growing up as the sizes were different with each team logo. By the time she turned back toward the center of the room with the bed, Jane was already sitting up against the headboard. As she went to sit down at the foot of the bed, Jane threw the pillow she wasn't leaning on at Maura. While the pillow hit her square on, Maura could tell Jane still needed to work on her strength with throwing too, probably due to the damage of the left Latissimus Dorsi muscle as the bullet exited her body. "Not fair starting a pillow fight if you're not up to it so I can't hit you back." Granted, she was happy for the reason to hold on to the pillow; she inhaled deeply but sadly all she could smell was laundry detergent and Jane's shampoo.

"What damage could a fluffy pillow do, huh? Maybe I should take one to crime scenes to bash the perps with. What do you think?" Granted she was glad that Maura didn't throw the pillow back as she knew that at night even the soft bed hurt as she tried to sleep. Not waiting for an answer, she went on, "I'm surprised you aren't demanding to see the bandages today...make sure I didn't get them wet, or that I'm not still bleeding like a stuck pig." She saw Maura tilt her head in amusement so Jane held up a finger to ward off any jabs about cops and pigs.

But Maura's amusement wasn't about farm animals, and Jane never could stop her from speaking. "No, your mother must be doing a fair job because I know you've already seen the surgeon..." She tried not to note the slight cringe that even now that word brought Jane and went on hoping that her friend might assume that she didn't see it. "...for a follow-up appointment. Plus there hasn't been enough bloodshed to land in the hospital...yours or your mother's."

Despite the momentary pause, Jane couldn't help the amused smile as she thought how close at times Maura might have been wrong about that. She and her mom had had quite a few rows in the last week. "Yeah, well, so how was your week. You already know mine: doctor's appointment, physical therapy, and painfully shlepping up and down the stairs. Riveting." The pained look that crossed Maura's face made Jane almost wish that she hadn't asked.

"Monday I had my first on-site case since, well...you know?" There was a brief pause as both women thought about what all was lost or changed in the last few weeks. "I'm still waiting for the tox report, and the final report from the arson investigator, but all evidence so far points to an accidental death. She was a healthy 24 year old. It just seems so pointless."

Jane was shocked at the morose look on Dr. Isles' face. Maura was usually good at leaving cases in the morgue...literally putting the thoughts and feelings on ice. When she would talk about emotions in relation to a case, it was always with a scientific excuse, like _women were designed to feel a need to protect children and so the loss of one was bound to cause an emotional response_, or some such wordy reasoning.

"I think I've worked with you too long," Maura threw Jane an unamused smile, hoping to relay that it wasn't as bad as the words made it sound. "I've gotten used to there being a bad guy that I could sic Korsak and Frost on. If not, I can usually look at a body and point out what was failing and at least think that it was bound to happen sooner rather than later. So it just seemed more tragic as it was just a freak accident of a young healthy female, combined with really bad timing of the fire starting. Wednesday didn't even seem as horrible." She didn't let herself think that maybe seeing the crime scene made Monday harder. She now knew what it was like to be in the middle of what would later become a crime scene. It made it harder, then and now, to detach when she saw more than just the bodies. "There were many young dead, with the youngest being an 18 month old baby boy. But there was at least the ability to use that accident to remind people of the perils of drunk driving, speeding, and a reminder about the benefits of wearing a seat belt."

Jane thought better of telling her friend right at that moment that Monday's accident could remind people to be careful with candles and fire. She could tell Maura just needed to blow off steam.

After a pause, Maura said almost too quietly for Jane to hear, "And I still can't get rid of the smell. All week food has tasted burnt. I tried to force myself to eat breakfast so I could take my usual multi-vitamin, but I guess I didn't eat enough. I've always had issues with being nauseated if I took it on an empty stomach. The ginger ale did help though, thank you." She felt that she needed to explain why she looked peaked this morning. She laid down and stared up at some stars stuck on the ceiling above her. Her thoughts flitted between various faces that had affected her more than usual in the last few weeks: the 18 month old boy as the youngest she had seen in those weeks, telling the father that his young son and wife had died in a car crash, and wondering if the bright headlights of the oncoming car were the last thing the mother saw as she worried for her child; the burned face and the picture of the women she had learned it belonged to, seeing another grieving mother so soon crying over the loss of their child, and wondering if the spread of the candle flame to the curtains was the last thing she saw before the fall knocked her out; the smiling face of Frankie, remembering the report she gave about how he was injured, wondering if her face was the last thing he saw before he went into the hospital to never come out alive. Then, as sleep claimed her, the information got jumbled up. It left her dreaming about another time with Frankie. The car's headlights were turned off when they reached the Italian restaurant and the flickering candles that she could see through the front window reminded her of the stars she had seen on the ceiling.

* * *

~ 11 weeks earlier, 1 months into relationship ~

After turning off the headlights, Frankie walked around the car for Maura. He oddly enjoyed opening doors for her and helping out. He wondered what speech he would get from Maura about the whys – biology to want to take care of and protect your mate? He smiled at the thought as they walked hand in hand to the little Italian restaurant. He heard it was a good place to eat, and, with the out of the way location, he didn't have to worry about anyone they knew seeing them on a date. Not that he minded. He would love the world to know that the beautiful doctor belonged to him...with him. But he knew she still worried about that fact. It even became the main topic of conversation during dinner.

The waiter refilled the wine glasses and replaced the salad plates with the main course: Eggplant Parmesan for Maura, and Fettuccine Alfredo for Frankie. The overhead lights were dimmed and the candles on the white linen covered tables were all lit and twinkling. Most of the families that had been in when Maura and Frankie first arrived were now gone, early enough to make sure that the children were tucked into bed before too many stars came out for the night. Now the few tables that still had patrons sat couples on dates.

Frankie took a large bite of his pasta. He was still a bit too hungry to care about rules of etiquette that Maura had at least slightly been trying to beat into his head. He mopped up some of the sauce with a bread stick, and waved it around as he commented about the food, "Not bad, but not as good as what Ma makes."

Maura wondered if Frankie was being totally honest or if he was just being a good son. She finally took a bite and from the few times she had tried Angela Rizzoli's food, she couldn't help but agree.

"You could join the family on Sunday for dinner. Be reminded what real home-cooked Italian food is like." Frankie couldn't help the longing in his voice, wanting Maura to join the family, but even more than that, to go as his date. "You know the family already loves you, Maura. They would be happy for us."

Silence settled around the table, and the pair tried to cover it up by eating or picking at their meal. After several seemingly long minutes, Maura finally put her fork down and stopped pretending to be interested in her dinner. Her forehead wrinkled up in consternation, "Mary Wittier." She saw the confused look on Frankie's face. "When I was in boarding school, I became friends with girl named Mary Wittier. My family was always busy during the holidays, lots of opportunities for charity functions when people are thankful for their money and feeling good will toward men." She couldn't help the loathing laced in her words. "Mary's family lived locally, they were really tight knit, and they got together whenever they could...especially holidays. My second year at the school, Mary invited me to her parent's place for Christmas dinner. After that I was there whenever she went home, her family became my family in many ways that mattered. But eventually we got into an argument, as most teenagers do...over a boy." She grinned at Frankie with that piece of information.

"Well, you wouldn't have to worry about fighting with Jane about the boy you like...at least not in the same sense." He was hoping the conversation would become lighter now, but he had a feeling she was just getting to the relevant part of her story.

"I didn't just lose my friend, but also the family I was closer to than my own."

"And you're afraid it would happen here, too?" He could see in her pained gaze that she was. "Jane's way too smart and loyal for that. Once she's a friend, you can't get rid of her so easily. She might give you the silent treatment if you jilt me, but hell, she would give me worse if I messed this up." He started to scoot around the U-shaped booth in order to get closer to his girl. He was met in the middle. "And my parents would get on my case too if I did something to hurt you. And Ma's lecture..." he didn't finish his thought, but he did shudder.

Maura leaned up against his left side as they both looked out over the few remaining patrons finishing up their meals and at the soft, slow flickering of the candles on the tables as they twinkled like stars. She believed what he said but was still too scared of repeating the past.

Not ready to leave yet, Frankie asked for coffee and a tiramisu to split when the waiter came back. He understood her fear, and knew he could wait for her...would wait for her to be comfortable. He watched Maura stare into the dark coffee when it was placed in front of her. "Don't worry. We can wait. Just see what we are together for awhile." He smiled at her when she looked up into his eyes, "We have time."

_But they didn't...he didn't._

* * *

Jane finally noticed that the reason Maura stopped talking was due to the fact that she was asleep and lightly snoring. She also felt the need for a nap but knew that the twin bed would not allow her to lay down too, and anything else, like sitting up against the headboard for long, was just going to tense up healing muscles and hurt way too much. She quietly got up, tried to drape an edge of the comforter around her dozing friend, and then grabbed the cell phone off the nightstand. Walking into her bedroom, she ironically thought about the need to sleep in this frilly room. She still would have preferred Frankie to be using his own bed, but she'd graciously let Maura use it too...just this once. She groaned as she laid down, and she wasn't sure if it was due to staring up at the draped pink fabric or from the weight against her healing back...both were painful in their own way. She pushed the 4th speed dial number and waited for the well known voice. Before he answered the phone, Jane realized she could change the numbers. She wouldn't need the third number anymore...Frankie couldn't answer his phone.

"Frost."

"Hey, Frost, can you do me a favor?"

Barry Frost tried not to groan into the phone. He could just imagine what that favor would be. "I'm not seeing if you can come back to work early. As much as I would like to get rid of Korsak as a partner."

Jane could hear the aforementioned detective shout something in response. She really missed being in the office...even more so she missed being out in the field. "No, I'll at least wait until I can walk into the building, and sit for more than three hours without falling asleep to bug the lieutenant. I was hoping you could go down to the morgue and let the ME's office know that Dr. Isles is busy helping an injured friend; if she does makes it in today, it will be later than she thought." Knowing Maura she would make up the time later by staying late, and hell she probably already clocked much more than the usual forty hours of work a week that for many was the norm.

Frost would have preferred to badger Cavanaugh about Jane coming back early. "Fine, but you owe me, Jane...I hate having to go downstairs."

Jane could just picture the disgusted look on his face and the shudder that went through him, "Thanks, partner."

He beamed. That was all the payment he needed; he knew his partner would be back before too long...driving everyone nuts, but also lightening their day. "Hurry back."

After they hung up, Jane hit speed dial three. No one answered, and the call went to voice mail. She tried not to tear up as she heard the message in a voice she missed, 'This is Frankie. Leave a message.' So she did. "I miss you, Frankie." She hung up, but before she could make herself delete the number she decided to keep it...at least until the month was up she would be able to hear her little brother. _Shit_, she just remembered that they had less than a week left of the month in order to clean out Frankie's apartment.

* * *

AN: Changed the listed characters to Jane and Maura because the story is mainly a friend, cases, and healing story. I know there are many who would like Jane/Maura as more than friends...but I killed Frankie to not have to make this an overly romantic story. I do angst better. So I think no one would really want me to make it Maura/Jane...because that means one would have to die.

Please review...two weeks ago was holiday, last week was season premieres so close to a holiday for us Rizzoli and Isles fans...no excuses this week :D Thanks!


	21. Chapter 21

DISCLAIMER: I do not own this show, the books, or these characters. I only borrow them.

**Chapter 21**

Maura glanced up and saw a multitude of yellow stars. As far as she could see left and right, the blue expanse seemed to swallow her up. It even blanketed her in its warm embrace as the occasional breeze ruffled her hair. She stretched and noticed the air vent that was near the ceiling above the headboard. She smiled thinking about Frankie waking up to this experience as he was growing up; it was calming to her frayed nerves. She sat up, glanced at the alarm clock on the bedside table, and was shocked to realize that she had slept slightly over two hours. She stood up and tried to smooth out the wrinkles that were already setting in the forest green dress with a few hand stitched flowers on the bodice. One green heel lay on it's side where it had fallen on the floor, so she kicked her other shoe off before walking around the room.

Without prying eyes around, Maura enjoyed the extra time she could spend wandering the room and seeing all of Frankie's boyhood treasures. She threw surreptitious glances at the door as she worked her way around the room and kept her ears open for the sounds of anyone approaching. She found herself fingering the name on one of the larger trophies. She wondered what he was really like as a kid. She knew that all she would have to do would be to ask either Jane or Angela for stories and they would probably gladly agree, but she didn't feel like she could witness their grief for what they lost. She barely handled her own grief, and she knew she didn't want others to see her at those times when all she felt like doing was crying. When she got to the dresser, she reached up and slowly drove the closest model car through the accumulated dust. She looked at the tracks the wheels made and thought for a moment that someone might notice, but then knew with all the dust that the top of the dresser was rarely looked at. A quick glance at the alarm clock showed her that she had been strolling through the bedroom for a good twenty minutes. She had looked more closely at all the objects she could that were out on top of shelves, dressers, and desk, or were hanging on the wall. Not wanting to invade Frankie's childhood privacy any more by looking into drawers, and fearing that at any moment Jane or Angela might stick their heads through the cracked open door, Maura walked back over to the bed. She straightened out the bed covers, slipped her shoes on, and walked out of the room that had told her a few stories she didn't want to ask others for.

After a brief stop in the restroom across the hallway, Maura poked her head through the other open door. She saw Jane sleeping in the pink canopy bed that she so despised. Maura silently chuckled as she knew that Jane's actions spoke volumes about how much she cared for her; otherwise, Maura knew with almost one hundred percent certainty that she would have ungracefully landed on the floor as Jane pushed her out of Frankie's bed. She was glad to see her friend still asleep as she didn't see the usual grimace of pain or sorrowful frown that were currently the most prominent expressions on her kind face. She quietly backed out of the room, down the stairs, and across the living room where she picked up her purse. Her plan was to grab her purse and just as quietly leave so that she could get in to work, but Angela seemed to have her own plans.

Hearing the creaking of the stairs, Angela knew one or both of the girls were finally venturing downstairs again. As Jane knew how to traverse the stairs without causing one squeak or groan since she was six, Angela knew that Maura was coming down. She poured a glass of milk and grabbed one of the sandwiches she had prepared not long ago knowing that they would be waking up soon. She exited the kitchen with the loot in hand and hurried over to the well dressed woman before she could try and slip out the door. She pushed the small plate into Maura's hands so that one hand was free to firmly but gently push the confused woman into the dining room. Angela set the milk down at the nearest spot and just glared at Maura until she realized that she had no choice but to sit. Angela sat in the neighboring chair once her daughter's friend was settled. "Eat."

Maura could hear the motherly command that was behind that one word. "I really need to be going. It's already much later than I meant to leave, and they will be expecting me at the morgue." She was about to reach into her purse to check the numerous messages she knew she would now have from work when the next statement stilled her hand.

"Jane called to let them know that you would be in later this afternoon, if at all." It was close enough to the actual message Angela thought. "She also mentioned that you haven't been eating well this week." She took a longer look at the petite woman in front of her and, like all Italian mothers, wanted to snatch her up and force feed her if necessary. She knew Jane would make fun of her for her notion that good food solved everything.

Maura didn't know whether to feel annoyed with Jane for calling into work without her knowledge or pleased that her friend was watching out for her, so she settled with confused as she stared at the sandwich for a moment before she realized what sat on the plate.

"Jane also told me once that you really liked those."

"Thanks. Food has tasted off since Monday when I had a case with a charred bo...house." Maura had often been warned by Jane that most people did not like hearing about her work and dead bodies while eating, so she left it out of her explanation even though Angela was only sitting with her and changed the topic. "Did you know that Marshmallow Fluff was created in 1917 by a man named Archibald Query? He made it in his home and then sold it door to door. And then, after World War I, he sold the recipe. It's a good thing he did because I really enjoy it." Picking up one triangle of the crustless peanut butter and marshmallow fluff sandwich, Maura added before taking a hesitant bite, "...and at least this is probably one of the few things that would taste okay burnt." At the confused look on Angela's face, Maura went on after she swallowed and took a small drink of the milk to clear out the peanut butter. "The first and only time I roasted marshmallows over a fire...well, it was interesting to say the least.

"My nanny, Sharron, thought I should enjoy all the activities she did when she was growing up. So one night, when my parents were out, she decided we should roast marshmallows. There was a warm fire in the sitting room my parents preferred..." To a family with one living room, she felt odd about talking about _preferred_ living rooms in her childhood home as she knew the difference often annoyed people. She was glad to see that Angela was still having a good time listening rather than feeling bitter over how Maura was raised as she was used to and feared with many, including from Angela's son early on. "She brought in a couple sticks that she found outside before the gardeners could get to them. She tried to pass me a stick with a marshmallow on it, but I refused to use it as I knew the gardeners used various chemicals on the yard and trees to keep the bugs away and keep the grounds green. So I went into the kitchen and grabbed a fondue fork before the cook could catch me. Before I knew it, I was catching marshmallows on fire. They weren't all that bad... granted Sharron's nicely toasted ones were better. I could never seem to get the ratio of spinning speed and distance from the flames correct in order to toast them well."

"So why didn't you ever do that again?...Perfect the art of marshmallow toasting?" Angela asked with a voiced laced with amusement and curiosity.

Maura couldn't help the embarrassed look that came over her face. "The heat from the fire caused the fork to get too hot through conduction. I dropped the fork..." Maura almost giggled now with the memory, even though at the time she was petrified at what her parents were going to do. "...With the burning marshmallow. Next thing I knew, there was a burned hole in the antique rug, a white sticky mess from both the marshmallow and the fire extinguisher, and a horrible smell in my parent's favorite room in the house that lingered for days. Mother wasn't happy and wouldn't let another fire burn in the room after that, and Cook became an even bigger tyrant in her kitchen."

"So what did your parents do to you when they got home?" Angela was curious to know how this other set of parents disciplined their wayward daughter. She had plenty of experience as Jane was growing up with which to compare.

"She took my books away."

Angela could see how that would be a horrible punishment for the little girl Maura used to be.

"But worse than that, my parents hired a new nanny. They thought Sharron was a bad influence, but they hired her back two weeks later as they had no clue how to deal with me." _Of course they didn't as Sharron was more a parent then they were._ "Mother even tried to give my books back to me when I refused to eat."

Jane had been standing in the doorway for awhile now and couldn't help laughing as she pictured a young Maura throwing her own prissy version of a temper tantrum.

Maura jumped in her seat and turned around to glance at Jane leaning against the doorway. "How long have you been listening?"

"Long enough to know that I'm not the only one with interesting stories about growing up." Jane came in and took the seat to Maura's right as her mother went into the kitchen.

"True, granted my mother wouldn't feel the enjoyment your mother seems to get out of trying to embarrass you... Granted my mother wouldn't even know most of my more interesting antics to tell others."

Not wanting to get into a topic that always seemed to cause sorrow to Maura, Jane went on "Ma's been having fun with remembering the stories when we were growing up: before Tommy started getting into trouble; before Frankie and I took a dangerous job; when she and Pop still wished the worse their boys would have to put up with was a frozen pipe bursting during the holidays." _Well crap_, now they both were frowning. That didn't go as Jane hoped, so she tried for a lighter conversation. "Even Pop's been acting off and overbearing. We were watching a game and I had a twinge. Pop doesn't even wait for the commercial to go get me a pillow, glass of water, and a couple pain pills...He never leaves in the middle of a game, even if his bladder is about to explode."

"That is impossible."

"I know. I never thought I'd see it either"

"No, the bladder exploding. It it a very distensible organ. Granted, it can over stretch on occasion if the nervous system isn't able to signal the micturition center in the pons; then a catheter would need to be used to void the urine. However, the bladder can sometimes rupture if there is major pelvic trauma, surgical complications, a tumor, or damage from radiation."

Jane glared from the very literal interpretation of her sarcastic words, even though she should have know better. "Okay, add no talking about peeing at the dinner table to the list of no-no's."

Maura smiled back brightly, "Of course I wouldn't talk about that...You should always use a bathroom." She had way too much fun with the technical talk with Jane as she would always roll her eyes at the long explanation...just like Frankie.

Angela came back into the room enjoying hearing her daughter laughing. She set another sandwich and glass of milk in front of Jane.

"Did you get a hold of Pop yet?" Jane had told her mom about needing to clear out Frankie's apartment when she brought a glass of water and bottle of pills upstairs in case Jane needed them before her morning nap.

"He has jobs scheduled all weekend, but he mentioned he and a few friends could help load the work truck Sunday afternoon with anything we might want to keep. I also called Goodwill to come over Monday morning to pick up the larger furniture. I thought Frankie would like his stuff to end up at the thrift store he liked to go to." As the family already had furniture, and knowing that Frankie would like to know that the furniture that had no real personal value to the family went cheaply to another family who really needed them.

Maura froze poised about to finish off the milk in her glass as she realized what Jane and her mother were talking about. She wasn't sure how she did it, but somehow she was able to set the glass back on the table without dropping it. She realized that Jane was asking her a question, so she struggled to pull her attention back to the conversation and not mentally wander Frankie's apartment to determine what all she would need to remove before anyone else entered.

When Jane noticed that Maura was finally focused on her, she asked again, "I was wondering if you might be able to help on Sunday. Frost and Korsak already said they would help out as long as they weren't called in. I can't do much yet as I'm still not allowed to lift over twenty pounds." She worried about her mother having to do most of the work. Pop couldn't help much as he had been taking any extra job he could find in order to pay the new bills from the funeral and medical expenses. She knew that most of the arguments that her parents had when they thought Jane was out of hearing range were about money: Ma wanted him to be home more and take the time to mourn, he countered with the many bills including the mortgage to keep the roof over their heads. Jane wondered how bad things really were.

"Sure. I know I'm not on call Sunday, so I'm free to help." At least this way, if Jane tried to fingerprint the apartment in order to determine Frankie's girl, she would have a valid excuse for why her prints were around. She realized she really had been around Jane too long as she was seeing the world in terms of conspiracies and intrigue. She much preferred the stress free moments filled with facts and proofs. She sat for the next ten minutes as she finished her meal and listened to the plan for cleaning out Frankie's apartment. She wanted to bolt out of the house sooner, but she knew Jane and Angela would both question her speed of egress. When she felt she had waited long enough, she begged off and promised to see them both Sunday.

When she was safely in her car with her hands tightly gripping the steering wheel, she took a deep steadying breath as she struggled to think about her new short term plans. She called work and told them she was taking the rest of the day off for personal reasons and to only contact her in case of an emergency. She started up her car and drove over to a building she had started to think of as a secondary home due to the occupant.

* * *

As Maura slowly walked toward the three story brick building, she remembered the first time she made her way here.

~15 weeks earlier~

Detectives Frost and Korsak, along with Dr. Isles, arrived at the familiar apartment which was now a crime scene and took in the dead body lying on the floor. They had all rushed over when they learned the true identity of Frankie's date. They all rode together with the lights and sirens going to allow them to speed through the streets of Boston. Frost radioed to the patrol car sitting outside watching the apartment and all but shouted at the answering officer to get his ass moving and to secure the apartment. They tried not to panic when, moments later, the chastised officer called for backup after hearing gunshots. They _were_ panicking when another officer called not only for emergency medical response at that location but also for the ME.

They were slightly relived when they arrived at Jane's apartment building and could hear Frankie's stressed voice as they were hurrying up the stairs. He was all but sobbing and telling Jane how sorry he was for getting her in this mess. The three feared that they would enter the apartment to see Frankie crying over his sister's dead body. Instead they walked into the now crowded room and saw the siblings sitting on the couch holding on to each other for dear life as Jane tried to calm her brother down. It was the first time in her career that Maura was very glad to see the dead body of a life cut too short; she was elated that it was anyone but her only real friend, and that it wasn't Frankie as she knew his death would be as hazardous as a fatal gunshot wound to Jane.

She pronounced that the female was dead and made sure that the necessary information was gathered in order to tell the story of what happened in Jane's bedroom to exonerate the siblings for any wrong doing in the shooting. As she walked back into the living room, she saw Jane being questioned quietly in the kitchen and Frankie was being swabbed for gun shot residue as the pictures of the violence in the building and on the two cops were being snapped. She even saw one tech taking a sample of the sauce that the deceased had been cooking, probably in order to check for any harmful substance.

As Jane was already home, the detectives decided to just interview her there. Frankie, on the other hand, they drove to headquarters to question as they wanted to make sure the stories were the same without being influenced by the other. Jane all but begged Maura to go and keep an eye out on her brother and make sure he got home as both of her partners were hovering and she knew they weren't going anywhere.

Maura reminded Jane of the spare key she had for her house in case she wanted to head over there and Maura was held up at headquarters. She saw a smile of thanks from her friend as she hurried out following Frankie and the officer leading him to the waiting cruiser.

After Frankie gave his statement, Maura drove him home as she promised Jane. She had finally threatened Frankie when he tried for at least the fourth time to find another ride. They both knew that there would be trouble if they did not follow Jane's explicit instructions. She parked half a block front his apartment building and got out of the car as Frankie did. They both knew that the unspoken addendum to Jane's orders involved seeing him safely into his apartment, and Maura was a stickler for following orders to the letter. She planned to leave after he stepped into his apartment, but he asked if she wanted to come in for coffee and she could tell that he needed someone to talk to after the hellish day. So she stepped into the warm interior and glanced around at the earth tone furnishings. She knew she wasn't the best when it came to comfortable conversation not involving work, but she knew that Jane would try to help someone if the situation was reversed, so she agreed.

Maura wasn't sure when it happened. When the fear and worry in Frankie's voice melted away and was replaced with gratitude and then a possibility for something more; when the words changed from the horror of the night, to more joyful times with his sister, and then to personal thoughts and feelings. They talked for hours, until Maura regretfully knew she needed to leave to get ready for work that day. Frankie and Jane would both be on leave until the situation was resolved. If it wasn't for the fact that she needed to get to work in order to perform the autopsy on 'Lola' in order to quickly get the two Rizzoli cops back on duty, she was tempted to call in for a personal day as she was tired...and she really didn't want to stop the best discussion she had had with someone other than Jane or a colleague in forensics.

* * *

Maura used the key he gave her to enter the apartment and noticed that the living room didn't seem as warm as it had before. The tans, browns, and greens that before had her thinking of a peaceful park now seemed more like a dark, overgrown, lonely forest. She didn't realize until he was gone just how much light and peace Frankie's presence added to a room...added to her.

Right away she realized that the first thing she needed to do was take out the trash. Maura knew that she and the detectives would not have any problem with the smell as it was nothing compared to some of the crime scenes they had worked, but she didn't want Angela to have to think of all that was slowing rotting now with her son dead.

After taking the trash out to the dumpster, Maura walked into the bedroom. She bypassed the bed she had shared with Frankie on occasion as she walked to the closet. She found an old, tattered duffel bag that she knew Frankie had often used when he went to the gym. She didn't think anyone would care or notice if she used it. She knew Frankie probably would be laughing at her for using it as she often complained because of the smell as he usually forgot to empty out the soiled and sweaty clothes he changed out of. Opening it up, Maura realized that he again forgot as the bag still had a few articles of clothing in it. She dumped them in a clothes basket that Frankie must have been preparing to take downstairs to the apartment washers, or more probably to her house. Multitasking seeing Maura while his laundry was being washed was much more enjoyable he has said than taking a book down to the musty room downstairs. She decided to go ahead and wash the clothes. She knew where he kept everything by now, including the laundry detergent and the stash of quarters...for the laundry or for when he was felt a need for a quick stop at a vending machine.

She thought about sitting downstairs while the laundry was running. Occasionally clothing would go missing if no one kept an eye on them, but, since she had a feeling the thrift store clothing was just going back there anyway, she decided that if someone really felt that they needed them that badly to steal, that Frankie would want that person to have them as he had no use for them anymore. Plus Maura preferred to spend as much time as she could surrounding herself with Frankie's belongings: childhood ones this morning and now a more mature version of his likes and hobbies. Looking at the Nintendo nearby, she modified that he was ...had been still a kid at heart. She had loved that about him. He helped her be childish at times as he knew that she usually didn't get to be a kid when she had been one.

With the now empty duffel bag in hand, Maura started walking around the place grabbing items that belonged to her. She opened the top dresser drawer and took out her clothes from the space he cleared out for her: a Frankie approved casual outfit as he often liked to spring an outing on her; a pair of satin pajamas as Frankie liked the feel of those second only to her smooth skin; underwear and bras. She placed them all in the duffel bag and then went back to the closet where she kept a pair of slacks, a generic but beautiful deep purple shirt, and a couple pairs of shoes. She wanted to keep a few items here in case she spent the night and needed to go into work the next day, but yet plain enough that Jane might not know right off that they belonged to Maura if she snooped in her brother's closet. Maura kept the clothes here as she didn't want to waste any time she and Frankie could spend together by going back to her place to change...plus she really did hate to put on the same, often wrinkled outfit from the day before even for the brief time of driving to her place. She neatly folded those clothes and put them and the shoes in the bag. The only other things she knew she kept here were a toothbrush, hairbrush, and some make-up that was now taking over much of the cabinet above Frankie's bathroom sink. She knew if Jane would have found those items she would definitely give them to Frost, or ironically Maura, to run the DNA through CODIS to see if the _perp_ was in the system.

The few items of hers were packed up, and she went to place the bag by the front door. On her way there she saw a picture of Jane and Frankie. Even though the image was stilled, Maura knew from the smiles and odd position of the siblings that they were goofing around. She hoped that whoever took the picture gave one to Jane too so that she wouldn't miss this one, and she added this last item to the duffel bag before setting it by the door.

She finished up the laundry, then took the bag out to her car and drove to a nearby restaurant in order to get something to take back to Frankie's place for dinner. She ate the food that now tasted not only burnt but bland. She knew her thoughts had some to do with the food's blandness though as she was too busy thinking about joyful times eating dinner with Frankie, usually from some place that delivered, but occasionally that was prepared by one of them. Granted, most of the times Frankie would try to cook, they would still end up having to call out for something.

For about an hour after she ate, she sat on the couch and remembered what was and daydreamed about what might have been. It was still early, but even with the nap from earlier she was exhausted: physically from the grueling work week, mentally as her thoughts which usually jumped from topic to topic were now struggling to even think about what all she needed to do before Sunday, and especially emotionally as she was tired of the sorrow from thinking on what might have been and the fear of letting anyone now find out about her relationship with Frankie.

She dragged herself into the bedroom and almost kicked herself as she opened the dresser and remembered that she had already taken the bag with her pajamas downstairs. She closed that drawer and opened the one below and grabbed the first t-shirt of Frankie's that she found...just one more way to be close to him for a few more stolen moments. She went to the restroom and repeated the process of berating herself for her lack of thought about the duffel bag as her toothbrush was also downstairs. She settled with just using a bit of the mint mouthwash that Frankie had purchased. When she put the bottle down she noticed the container of aftershave that Frankie preferred, and she had developed a talent for being about to place Frankie anywhere within a twenty foot radius based on that smell. She opened the bottle and inhaled the scent that had been missing in her life for the last few weeks. Maura put the stopper back on and then walked back out to the bedroom. The bottle of aftershave she put on the nightstand by the lamp hoping that she might remember to take it with her in the morning. She didn't think anyone would miss an open bottle or be able to resell it.

She went over to the closet, toed her shoes off, slipped out of her dress and hung clothing for the last time in the closet. Without the dress hiding her necklace, it now shone as it reflected the soft light from the overhead ceiling fan. She had wondered for awhile now what she should do with the ring that dangled from the necklace. She had thought once about mailing the ring back to the family it belonged with, but then worried that the family heirloom might get lost in the mail. She reached behind her neck, unclasped the gold chain, and then let the ring slide off into her palm. For a few minutes she just stared at the simple yet elegant gold ring. Etched on the band were tiny vines and leaves, with a couple well placed miniscule diamonds to act as the flowers to the indented stems. She slid it onto her left hand ring finger and felt the tears flow down her cheeks as she thought about the hope in Frankie's eyes when he asked to marry her. She knew that he had wanted to be the one to put the ring on her finger. She wished she could go back and change the past: say yes, tell his family, tell him how much he meant to her. But there was no changing the past. It was too late now...even the telling the family part seemed out of reach anymore. She took the ring off and wondered where she could place it so it would be found without too much trouble on Sunday. It was only a promise ring to her, and that promise would never be fulfilled, so it wasn't rightfully her's. The beautiful ring, and the sweet story about how Grandma Regina was given the ring, needed to stay and be treasured by it's rightful family...that she would never get a chance to be a part of now.

She opened the small drawer on the nightstand and lovingly placed it next to some odds and ends. It was in plain view for whoever would open the drawer to empty it of it's contents. She closed her eyes to block the ring from view as she felt around to slide the drawer closed. Maura knew she would let someone else deal with the nightstand as she feared she might not let the ring go if she saw it again.

She grabbed the dark blue BPD shirt that she had set on the edge of the bed and pulled it over her head. It was too large, and hung down to mid-thigh. Amusement tried to wiggle its way through her sadness as she realized that the shirt smelled more like the laundry detergent at his mother's house than either the brand that she used or that he used. She knew that he must have taken clothes home to wash...for his Ma to wash as she knew that Angela would jump at the chance to help out her son. Maura wondered if he solely took his clothes over there sometimes because he didn't have the time to wash them or if he knew it would please his mother to help out on occasion. She knew the shirt would be another item she would pilfer from the apartment.

Sliding between the sheets after she turned the light out reminded her of joining Frankie to sleep...or not; however, her heart had never hurt then like it did now. She clutched the other pillow to her chest as Frankie was not around to hold as the sobs she had been holding in for so long would not be commanded into the corner of her mind any longer. Then, all to soon, she was once again sleeping in Frankie's bed that day.

* * *

AN: Yes, having Jane find something of Maura's would have been an interesting way for the Jane to learn about Maura and her brother, but still too early...plus it would be nice for Maura to have a little control over that. (that and it's still already written. lol)


	22. Chapter 22

DISCLAIMER: I do not own this show, the books, or these characters. I only borrow them.

**Chapter 22**

The sun was just peaking over the horizon when Maura first peaked her head out of the warm covers she had somehow gotten tangled in. Her eyes were sore and gritty from crying the night before. She could only remember one other time when she had been in this bed and had felt as sick – then with bronchitis and now heartsick...she would prefer the former. At least then Frankie would be around to take care of her again.

* * *

~11-12 weeks earlier, 5-6 weeks in relationship~

They both sat on a bench under a weeping willow tree in the Public Gardens. Frankie liked the view: not only of the water and Maura, but also of the brilliant fireworks going a few blocks away from a barge on the Charles River. They were close enough to still have a spectacular view, but a smaller crowd than the party goers trying to get on television by being on the Esplanade for an upfront view of the fireworks and concert. Maura would usually try to be closer as she loved the Pops, but she thought that would be a horrible way for Frankie's family to learn they were going out; knowing her luck, she would be caught on camera even when hiding in the large crowd.

When the fireworks started, Maura couldn't contain her excitement. "Do you know how interesting fireworks are? All the science that goes into making sure that they explode where desired, and with the correct effects? There are 18 chemical elements that can be combined to create those sparkling shapes out there." She said it all without even looking over at Frankie to note that he was too busy looking at the sky and listening for the sounds of the explosions to pay much attention to her words. "Carbon, phosphorus, and sulfur are needed for the black powder that works as a propellent. As oxygen is needed for anything to burn, you have oxygen, chlorine, and potassium in oxidizers. For colors there are many: sodium for gold; copper for blue; lithium and strontium for red; calcium salts for orange; barium salts for green; titanium for silver sparks; magnesium and aluminum for white sparks; and, based on heat, like red hot or white hot, iron can produce various colored sparks. And then there is zinc for smoke effects, and antimony for glitter effects. Plus weather and wind speed need to be taken into account for directionality and safety purposes...it all ties together so nicely..."

His head was spinning, so Frankie leaned over and kissed her to get her to stop talking, "Just enjoy it."

"I do enjoy it. All the chemistry and physics that make it work...it's fascinating."

"Just watch the pretty lights and try to see it how us non-scientific people do...just be in the moment...enjoy it as a kid might. Just watch and be amazed." Frankie said it all while still being amazed himself at sparkling shapes being formed in the air.

She never really cared about the firework shows when she was a kid. Looking back it probably had more to do with the fact that she saw happy, close families around watching and so was jealous. But she gazed first at Frankie's face, and then at the explosions of colors, fire, and smoke: gold, silver, red, green, and blue. She looked back at the child-like smile on Frankie's face and started to understand the marvel as a beautiful spectacle with loved ones around. She reached over and clasped his hand. They shared a brief glance, and then turned together as a firework exploded and spread out in a similar pattern to the tree they sat under.

About halfway through the light show, Maura walked closer to the water's edge to feed a couple ducks that were not scared off by all the noises. She must have gone a bit too close, or stepped wrong and tripped, because the next thing she knew, she was in the chilly water listening to Frankie trying not to laugh as he hurried over. He reached out a hand to pull her out of the water as he continued biting his lip, and Maura was really tempted to pull him in. However she knew it would be a waste for them to both get soaked, mainly because she wanted the lightweight but dry jacket that he was wearing. The night wasn't too cold, but it was better safe than sorry, and she wanted to try and ward off any illness: from being wet, or from anything that might be in the pond. When she was safely out of the water, and they were both out of range of falling back in, Frankie took off the jacket she was eying and held it open so she could slip it on. He wasn't laughing anymore, but he still was wearing a goofy grin, and Maura couldn't help but smiling back.

They walked the few blocks to where Frankie had parked his car. He was lucky to get the spot he did. The officer directing traffic recognized him and they were waved past the road blocks. Maura hoped that the officer was too new to really know who she was. Luckily, as the fireworks were still exploding in the distance, the roads were relatively empty...at least it wasn't gridlocked like it would be soon. Frankie took her back to his place as it was the closest so that Maura could get a shower to warm up; after she stepped into the shower, Frankie realized that she didn't have anything dry there to wear, so he quietly placed a pair of sweatpants, and his Boston PD t-shirt on the toilet seat and then hurried downstairs to throw the cloths in the dryer. After that night, Maura took over a small section of his dresser.

The week went downhill from there. When Frankie went to retrieve the dry clothes, he realized that he had ruined one of Maura's expensive dry-clean only dresses as he had never thought to read tags on clothing. He wished he could have offered to replace it, but he knew he probably wouldn't be able to pay rent if he did...for the next two months. Maura tried to shrug it off, but he could see that she wasn't very happy. Then, a few days later, she started to feel run down; Frankie noticed she didn't look well at work and asked her to stay at his place as he hoped that taking care of her would help him atone for killing the dress and for laughing at her when she fell in the pond.

The next morning she was worse but still able to joke about it. Her nose was congested and so her words sounded funny when she mentioned that Frost would love to not be able to smell in the morgue. She knew it would hinder her doing her job though. Fortunately it was the start of the weekend she had off, and then she had off the following week for a conference. She hoped she felt better the following day to fly out.

xoxoxoxoxo

Maura really wished she was not here. Even though she enjoyed being with Frankie and in his bed, she hated being sick. She was supposed to on a plane at this very moment for Las Vegas, Nevada for a four day meeting of the International Association of Coroner's & Medical Examiners. The meeting was to start the following day, on July 11. She wasn't sure which annoyed her more – not being able to go or the fact that she was ill. She was about to roll over and go back to sleep when she heard the main door to the apartment close. She glanced at the glaring red numbers on the alarm clock and realized it couldn't be Frankie yet as it was too early for his planned run to the pharmacy over his lunch break. It was also too late for it to be Frankie leaving for work, plus she thought she had already heard him leave. She sat up stiffly as she now heard someone puttering around in the living room. She stood up and wrapped the blanket around her shoulders to help against the chill that had nothing to do with the temperature in the apartment. Later she would blame her fever addled brain for not thinking before she left the bedroom: if the person was a thief, then she was in trouble as she had no energy to try to fight someone off; if it was family or friends of Frankie, then the secret was out; if it was Frankie, then she would have wished to comb her hair down or something.

Frankie tried to be quiet as he came back in his apartment, but he knew he didn't do as well as he hoped when he heard the sound of feet shuffling across his bedroom carpet. He put the bags of loot on his kitchen counter and then glanced toward the bedroom door. Even cocooned in a blanket, with her hair in total disarray and the pallor of her skin much too pale, he thought she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

"Aren't you supposed to be at work?" Maura knew she missed quite a bit of time in the last couple days, but she thought she was getting better at not losing so much.

"Yeah, but I decided to take a day or two off...take care of my girl." Frankie grinned at her, "It's a good thing you're off work for a conference. To think what people might assume if we took the same sick days."

She tried to glare at him, but she was too curious to see what all Frankie had brought home from the store. On top of one of the bags was the main item she wanted. She wrote a prescription on her seldom used prescription pad for amoxicillin once she realized that she had bacterial bronchitis. The lovely color of her sputum from her productive coughs helped diagnose her; that and the fact that she had bronchitis enough growing up to know what it was. She could have run a culture on her phlegm to make sure, but she wanted to go ahead and start the antibiotic. She filled up a glass with cool tap water in order to take one of the pills. She watched as Frankie grabbed a jug of orange juice out of the brown paper bag and poured a small glass of it; she shook her head when he tried to pass it over. "I'll have some later." At his pleading look she added, "There have been various studies to show that orange juice can decrease the effectiveness of antibiotics...You should drink it...I don't want you to get sick too."

He thought the worried frown on her face was cute, and he leaned in to try and kiss the frown off her face.

She pushed him away as he tried to come closer and went back to emptying the bags in order to see what other treasures they held. She found a two liter of Sprite, five cans of chicken noodle soup, some decongestant cough syrup, herbal cough drops, and a three-pack of tissues. With the way she still felt, and how often she was coughing, she mused that she might need all three. In the bottom of the second bag she found a box of Earl Grey tea that he knew she liked that would help her sore throat, and a Get Well Card. She passed it over with a sincere smile and a quiet, "Oops."

Frankie assumed that Maura would still be in bed when he got home, so he didn't think he would have to worry about her finding it early. He went about putting the groceries away and watched as Maura made her way over to the couch with one of the boxes of tissues.

She sat down stiffly and closed her eyes as she rested her head against the back of the couch. She pulled her legs in close and wrapped the blanket even tighter around her. Maura knew she should still be in bed getting as much rest as she could, but she felt too tired and sore to make it the rest of the way to the bedroom without a brief breather. She felt the cushions move and knew that Frankie had sat down next to her. "Thanks for bringing the medicine and groceries, but I'm just going to be sleeping most of the day, so you really should go to work."

"Nope. I feel tired too, so come to bed." He liked the idea of having more time to sleep with his girl, granted he would have preferred that it wasn't because she was sick. He stood up and pulled Maura up beside him. He all but dragged her first to the restroom and then back to bed.

Maura climbed into the warm bed. She wanted to push Frankie away as she didn't want him to get sick too, but his fingers massaging her temples to help with her headache, and then the arms around her, felt too nice. She didn't have long to debate though as a healing sleep soon pulled her under.

Frankie was glad that Maura didn't push him away as he feared she might try. Instead he enjoyed holding her, and soon the sound of her not quiet steady breathing lulled him to sleep. He hoped that he could help her heal: through the chicken soup and orange juice, but more so through his presence.

He was startled awake by the sound of banging on his apartment door. He glanced at the alarm clock and noticed that they had been sleeping for nearly three hours. He carefully slid out of the bed trying not to disturb the sleeping patient. He glanced down at the black sweatpants and white t-shirt that he had changed into earlier when Maura was in the bathroom and ran his fingers through his hair so that he looked presentable. When the loud knock on the door came again, he hurried out of the room. He shut the bedroom door behind him, hoping that the noise would not wake Maura up. Then, wanting to prevent another knock to the door, Frankie opened it without looking through the peep hole. "Jane!" _Crap._

"Frankie!" Jane couldn't help rolling her eyes as she pushed past him and set a take-out bag on his kitchen table. "I heard you called in sick today, so I thought I'd bring you some soup...but you don't look sick." Jane gazed at him critically. She did see a couple boxes of tissues on the counter, but if Frankie did need them before, he didn't now. "So...?"

"Um..." he hoped his brain would catch up with his words while he spoke. "I'm just...really tired." _Nope, it didn't._ "I needed a day to myself."

A mischievous look spread over Jane's face, "You're playing hooky."

Frankie didn't know what to say back, so just let Jane have her fun. He plastered an 'oops-you-caught-me' look on his face.

"Fine, they're your sick days. Your secret is safe with me...but you owe me."

His secret was still in his bedroom, and he really needed to get Jane out of his home. "Okay...um, thanks for the lunch. You should get going though so I don't use up all of your lunch break."

"Next time warn me so I don't feel sorry for your lazy ass," she said as she opened his door and stepped out.

Before he could shut it, he couldn't help adding, "Aww, I didn't know you cared." He laughed at the annoyed look on her face as he shut the door. He rested his forehead on the door thinking how close that was. His laughter turned almost maniacal as he heard a harsh cough coming from his bedroom. _That would have gone over real well._

He walked back into the bedroom with a glass of orange juice and was pained as he watched Maura sitting up trying to cough out the crap that was congested in her lungs.

When she could breathe enough to speak, Maura asked, "I thought I heard voices out in the living room...or was that the television?"

"No, that was Jane," he tried not to show any amusement at the deer-in-the-headlights look that was now on Maura's flushed face. In fact that color slowly drained away. "Don't worry. She left. Granted, if you would have coughed ten seconds earlier, she would have heard...and then two seconds later she would have been peeking in here to see who I was hiding in my bedroom." The amusement couldn't be helped any longer. He chuckled as he passed over the cool drink. The color came back to Maura's checks, and he wasn't sure if it was from her blushing or from the slight fever that she was still running. "She brought me some soup because she heard that I was ill...She now is going to make me pay for playing hooky."

"Sorry."

"Don't be. If she wasn't collecting on that debt, it would just be something else. But one good thing about it was she brought lunch. How about it...from the smell I would say it was Minestrone." He again made sure she made it to the restroom and then to the kitchen table. He placed a bowl of soup and a glass of Sprite in front of Maura before making a sandwich for himself.

They ate in silence. Frankie was quiet because he was enjoying the quiet companionship that felt so right even after so short a time; however, it probably didn't hurt that he knew Maura through her friendship with Jane long before they started dating.

Maura was silent because breathing hurt at times, and she feared the additional effort needed to talk might lead to more painful coughing. She finished off the soup and then nursed the half-full glass of Sprite. "My chest hurts." She hoped she really didn't sound as whiny as it seemed.

"Mine too, because my heart hurts when you don't feel well."

Maura thought about calling him out on the sappiness of the statement. It sounded worse than the Get Well card he brought home, but she was too focused on the feasibility of that response. "It'd be closer to say your head hurts...Based on various studies, MRI scans have shown that empathy for pain involves the somatosensory cortex which is where sensory signal are sent. Very interesting to think about someone having input like that when they are not the one who actually had the painful stimulus in the first place."

"Riiight?...I'd say your brain is less foggy," at the confused look from Maura he went on. "It was one of your complaints yesterday. You hated that putting thoughts together was so difficult...but I at least understood everything you said...well, okay, after your nose cleared up." He rinsed the dishes off and put them in the dishwasher. "Come on. More sleep, and you'll be feeling even better." So that is what they did.

xoxoxoxoxo

Frankie had the next day off even though it was a Monday because he was scheduled to work the following weekend; he wasn't even on-call unless the force needed all hands on deck. So they spent another slow day of healing and learning more about the other person when Maura was not dead to the world.

Being the first day that Dr. Isles was supposed to be at the conference, Jane wanted to see how it was going...and that Maura didn't end up counting cards in some game. She wasn't sure if there were talks or a working dinner going on, so Jane felt it would be safer to text Maura than to call. Therefore at 10pm Boston time, so 7pm if Maura was actually where she was supposed to be, a text message pinged on her phone. [Hi, how's LV]

Maura typed back, glad that Jane didn't call. At least writing a lie didn't cause her to hyperventilate. [Good. There?]

Before the next message could come in, Frankie swiped the phone as Maura was so tired she could barely see the tiny keyboard to type. He laughed when he saw the next message. Frankie played sick. Else...usual Frankie looked up to Maura, "Jane is tattling on me for playing hooky."

"Write that's I'm listening to a talk on _cardiac dysrhythmia during restraint_."

"Okay," he started to type and then looked back up with a bewildered expression, "Um...how do you spell that?"

"Tell her I was just listening to a riveting discussion on _adolescent Russian roulette deaths_."

"Oh, yes, cause I can see how that would be...riveting. And do you really want to mention roulette when you're supposed to be in Vegas?" He was glad he wasn't in the morgue or he would be in trouble for using humor in relation to a very serious issue. He typed it in anyway and smiled at the reply.

Maura grabbed the phone Frankie was nearly pushing in her hands so she could read Jane's reply. [Guess that answers the question. I assumed card counting, but roulette works.]

[JANE.]

[Oh come on, that was a good one.]

Maura gave the phone back to Frankie before she might call Jane to complain as the short text messages couldn't say all she wanted, but that would be a dead give away that she was sick as her voice sounded scratchy from all the coughing. Her attention was pulled back to Frankie when he laughed so hard he almost fell off the couch.

"Jane wants to know if you are going to check out the night scene and pick up a guy...Should I feel jealous of this fictitious date?"

Just for that Maura couldn't help replying, "Tell her 'Maybe if he's cute.'" She was not expecting Frankie to actually send that and she grabbed the small pillow behind her in order to smack him over the head. "She is going to have too much fun with that...you do know that, right?"

"Of course, my sister is predictable in some areas."

And right then another message came though. [Hopefully he's talented...could play hooky tomorrow too.]

Frankie was starting to regret taking the phone over. "I don't know which is worse: talking about you finding another cute guy or that I'm having 'girl talk' with my sister."

"Oh, so you think your cute, huh?" Maura couldn't help herself, and then definitely thought his exaggerated hurt look was too cute...worse than Jo giving her usually sad puppy dog face. She laughed until she had a coughing fit.

Frankie threw the pillow back at Maura from her comment and then watched as she placed it behind her head and looked like she was about to fall asleep then and there. "Okay, one last reply before bedtime."

Maura smirked at him and took the phone to enter her reply, [Talk when I get back...see my cute guy now so going to bed.] She passed over the phone over to Frankie before the message was sent.

He gave her a loving smile before hitting the send button, and then grabbed Maura's hand so they could go back to bed.

xoxoxoxoxo

Maura was correct in the fact that she didn't talk to Jane again until she was supposed to be back at work. She still looked and felt wrung out, but she was finally cough free...unless she'd try running another marathon.

About an hour after Maura arrived in the morgue, Jane stuck her head in the door. She was about to ask how well the trip was, and if she did any gambling, with money or her heart, but forgot all she meant to ask when she saw her weary friend. "Wow, must have been a really busy conference...Are you okay? You look like your coming down with something." She then chuckled, "Something seems to be going around lately...just ask my brother."

* * *

Maura finally pulled herself out of the comfortable bed. She walked barefoot over to the restroom and glanced at herself in the mirror. She tried not to flinch at the face that stared back. Even with all the sleep she had yesterday, the dark bags under her eyes were still very prominent. Not having concealer nearby, Maura turned away from her reflection.

She dressed in the clothes she wore the day before. Luckily they weren't too wrinkled as she had hung them up the day before. She rummaged in her purse to find a hair tie and put her hair in a slightly messy ponytail. Between the dark circles under her eyes, and the semi-wrinkled clothing, Maura didn't think that messy hair would matter too much for the short ride home where she could make herself presentable. Not that she had anyone to impress today but herself...she mused that Frankie would have been amused if he could see her now.

Maura was about to leave and lock up when she remembered she needed to stop by the landlord's apartment to return her key...and so would Jane or Angela the following day. She hurried out to her car to grab the duffel bag so that she could change as she knew her current outfit would be a dead give away if Jane would grill the landlord for a description. She changed into her tennis shoes, jeans and the t-shirt she slept in as it made her feel closer to Frankie, and she felt she needed that to get through leaving here. She placed her dress and heels in the duffel bag, and then again as ready to leave as she would ever be.

After a once over of the apartment, Maura stepped out of the front door. She looked back in at the cheery room that she had many happy memories in, and knew that it would never hold that again. She squared her shoulder as she locked the door. Today she left the home as a grieving girlfriend; Sunday she would come back solely as Jane's friend to help her clean out her brother's apartment.

She stopped by the landlords apartment on the first floor, and, since it was after eight am, she felt it was safe to knock on the door. A short, balding man in jeans and a white undershirt opened the door, and Maura passed over her key to Frankie's apartment, "Here is one of the key's to Frankie Rizzoli's apartment. I have it on good authority that by Monday the apartment will be cleared out, so you should get the other apartment key and the one for the mailbox." She turned to leave, but a slight weight on her elbow made her look back.

"I'm really sorry for your loss," he gave the women in front of him a sad smile.

It was odd finally having someone tell her that line, rather than her saying it to others. She tried not to cry again at the gratitude she felt for his sincerity, "Thanks." She finally turned and walked out of the building until her last time the next day.

AN: Watched this years Boston Pops Fireworks finally, so I couldn't help writing it in as the dates worked and found a cool firework periodic table (yes I'm a nerd)...didn't see the 2010 version but fireworks are fireworks. And I finally stated the dates...let's hope I don't mess them up later.

YAY! 100k words...hopefully sometime soon I might make it to 100 reviews :D By the way, if I get enough reviews I might drop the next chapter in before next Friday. Yep, resorting to bribes.


	23. Chapter 23

DISCLAIMER: I do not own this show, the books, or these characters. I only borrow them.

**Chapter 23**

Bright and early Sunday morning, the majority of the cleaning crew was standing in the middle of Frankie's living room. Various sizes of cardboard boxes, newspapers, trash bags, and packing tape were scattered around the room. Jane, Barry, Vincent, and Maura were all wearing t-shirts, jeans and tennis shoes in various levels of wear and tear. The girls both had their hair up: Jane in a ponytail and Maura in a twist. Angela was going to meet them to help out after mass this morning...she seemed to need the extra time for prayer and to light a candle before she would come and face this new hurdle of packing up her son's life. Frost and Korsak manhandled Jane over to the couch where she could sit and conduct the actions in the kitchen and living room. With that done, the group seemed to pause in confusion on where to start.

After a few moments of mentally twiddling their thumbs, Maura decided to start in the kitchen as it was less personal. "I'm assuming I should trash all the food stuff and box up the dishes for donation?" She had to bite her tongue before she mentioned that she was assuming the dishes weren't desired by the family as they were a mix and match collection of cutlery, hollowware, and flatware.

"Yeah, I've seen the dishes in his cupboards, and I know that Ma hated them. She wanted him to get a real set..." Her voice changed from amused to annoyed, "to try and impress a girl."

Maura thought his random dishes were endearing. Part of what she had admired about him was that he didn't mind going against the norm. She had been showing him the opposite side of against-the-norm with parts of how she was raised.

They worked in comfortable silence until Angela arrived. Maura placed all opened food in trash bags that Frost then took down to the dumpster. She placed any unopened food she found on the shelves in a box to take over to the food pantry. She wrapped the breakable dishes in newspapers and then put them in a box for Goodwill to pick up the next day. Frost took knick-knacks and books over to Jane to go through as she sat on the couch. Korsak decided to be as 'lazy' as Jane as he sat next to her boxing up the items that Jane knew for sure were to be donated.

Angela came in to the newly created mess of half packed boxes, a couple bags of trash to still go outside, and a stack of items teetering on the coffee table. She helped pick out the items that she wanted to stay in the family. Korsak packed up the other items added to the donation pile as Angela lovingly and carefully packed up the meaningful objects: pictures, a couple old western stories that he had as a kid and brought over to his apartment as he liked to reread them, paperwork, and some personal treasures including a baseball he caught when he was fourteen and went to a ball game with his father.

Soon the cupboards and refrigerator in the kitchen were cleared, the bookshelves and desk drawers from the living room were emptied out. Four boxes of objects with personal value that the family would be interested in, the computer, television, and gaming system were all that was being kept from those two rooms. Angela quickly cleaned the kitchen, and, after Korsak and Frost moved the big furniture to the walls, she ran his beat-up vacuum cleaner over the cleared carpet.

The group then moved over to the bedroom and bathroom. Jane decided to go through the closet as she was getting stiff from sitting for so long. She saw Frankie's spare uniform, slowly folded it, and placed it in a box to keep. She grabbed an old leather jacket that was hiding in the back of the closet, and his prized custom Boston Bruins jersey that Frankie had all but begged for Christmas '06, and added those to the keep box. The rest of the clothing Jane folded and placed in a clean trash bag to be donated. Without thinking she tried to reach the upper shelf to pull down the items there, but a sharp pain in her side reminded her why she was still on restrictive duty. If the pain wasn't enough to drag Jane out of the closet, Frost gently pulling her over to sit on the bed did the trick. She leaned against the headboard, trying not to frown for having to sit on the side lines again.

Angela was going through the dresser drawers. So far only an old comfortable sweat shirt that was her son's favorite was in the keep pile. She knew he had a BPD t-shirt that she was thinking of keeping, but she couldn't seem to find it in his dresser. Knowing Frankie though, that shirt could have ended up anywhere: left in a dryer downstairs, forgotten in a gym locker, or even used as a towel to clean up a mess if he didn't have one on hand. A tender grin spread across her face as she thought about her capricious son. She grabbed the sports t-shirts that were folded neatly and turned around to put those last few articles of clothing in the box to keep.

Jane watched as her mother carefully went through all the articles of clothing in the dresser. For a split second, Jane thought her mom might be making sure there was no dust on any of the clothes she put in the donation bag, but then had that eureka moment, "Looking for grandma's ring?" At her mom's nod, Jane added, "Maybe he gave it to her...you did say he mentioned it was getting serious."

Angela came over to the bed and sat partially on the bed with her left foot still resting on the floor. "But if it was that serious, why wouldn't she have come forward at the funeral? We could have cried and laughed together."

"Maybe she wasn't as serious as he was, and kept the ring for the money," Jane thought out loud.

Maura again took the least personal location in the clean up and so was in the bathroom. Being only 25 feet or so from Jane and her mother, she couldn't help but over hear their not so whispered words. She didn't know whether to be angry or saddened by what she heard, and it took all of her effort to not walk into the bedroom and wrench open the nightstand drawer. However she could not bite her tongue; she just hoped she didn't sound as aggravated as she felt. "Maybe she thought you had enough to deal with and so she didn't want to burden you with her sorrow too."

"That's one hazard of being a cop, Maura, after awhile you learn that there is no such thing as a nice guy."

With that damning statement all the women went quiet as their minds took them in various directions: Maura was wondering what they might think if she would ever tell and knowing that she couldn't; Angela was still wishing that she could have talked to the girl to learn more about her Frankie as the man and not just as the kid that she often pictured; Jane thought that even the cops weren't always the 'good guys' as she placed her hands over the bandages on her abdomen.

Maura went back to trashing all the open containers of personal hygiene items and over-the-counter medications from the shower and the cabinets. Her confusing emotions causing her to toss them in with more force than necessary. Even if she wanted to tell them now it wouldn't work, and what for? So they could be stoic and quiet in their grief together as that was the only way she knew how to grieve around others.

Not wanting to leave the room, as she thought someone might notice that something was wrong, Maura started wiping down the bathroom after she deposited the trash bag out of the door. She knew that someone took care of it soon after as she heard the clinking and rattling of all the bottles again as it was picked up. She was running out of ways to continue to hide in the small room when she finally heard an elated Angela let everyone around, probably including in the next apartment also, know that she had found the sought after ring. She waited another ten minutes to make sure that her face didn't show anything but a blank mask.

She must not have done such a good job of it though as right when she came through the door Jane commented that her eyes were teary. "Allergies...dust...did Frankie ever clean?" Maura didn't see it as an outright lie. Frankie rarely cleaned up. Often he just tossed stuff in the closets when he knew she was coming over, but he tried to be a little better at it after a basketball attacked her when she went to hang up her coat once. Plus she was allergic...to emotions; they even gave her similar symptoms: running nose, red and watery eyes, and the need to use way too many tissues. She didn't wait for an answer but started grabbing the painted prints and pictures of the family off the wall.

The rest of the bedroom was packed up over the next half hour. Angela and Jane went back out into the living room to sit on the repositioned couch so that the men could again move the furniture against the walls letting the majority of the room at least be vacuumed. As the bed was the only thing that really needed moved, Frost grabbed the top mattress and started moving it against the side wall. Korsak flipped up the box spring so he could move it, but was frozen in his tracks by what was now visible. He hurried forward to grab the item, not even thinking about the fact that the box spring would fall back. He did think about it when the weight hit him, even if it was soft for the most part and that Frost soon grabbed it off of him and set it by the mattress.

"What are you doing?" Frost was wondering how Korsak seemingly became pinned under by the box spring.

"I saw something and I wanted to get a closer look...it was a dust bunny."

Frost just rolled his eyes and grabbed the slats.

When his back was turned, Korsak hurried over to a watchful Maura and pushed the black, lacy bra into her hands as he whispered with a wide grin, "I think you lost something." He was greatly amused as he watched a blush color her cheeks while she quickly pushed the article of clothing into her pants pocket.

Frost turned back to see Korsak farther from the bed and turned a confused gaze on his current partner. Then he started taking the bed apart and moving the disassembled pieces, a bit annoyed that Korsak was not helping with the bed at all...but he was an old man, maybe he was getting tired. That thought brightened his outlook on the situation.

At Frost's questioning gaze, Korsak just said, "Huge dust bunny...very frightening...I'm not sure anyone ever cleaned under the bed." He snickered in Maura's direction.

Frost glanced at the floor that was moments ago blocked by the mattress but could see nothing of what Korsak saw. "Man, what are you talking about?"

"It was so big it must have jumped away. But I swear I saw it. It was the cutest little black thing, all bunched up and hiding...must have been scared away."

"Get your eyes checked...or your mental capacities," Frost shook his head against the oddity that was known as Detective Vincent Korsak. He walked out of the room to give Angela the all clear as she would not relinquish control of the vacuum cleaner to anyone.

Before Angela could come into the room, Maura turned to gaze straight up at Korsak, gave him the best seething glare she could after all that had gone on today, and then stomped on his foot before she turned and huffed out of the room.

Even in pain, Korsak laughed so hard he snorted. The things he put up with to help a friend: first a bump to the head and then a sore foot. He waited until she had turned to leave the room before he jumped on one foot for a few steps. Even being petite, she could pack a punch...or stomp. He was just grateful that she was not wearing her usual heels. He did not relish the idea of a stiletto piercing through his foot.

Soon the group slowly started to disperse from the now empty apartment. It might still have boxes and furniture to be picked up the next day, but it was empty of all the warmth and personality that Frankie had imbued the place with. Maura watched as Korsak and Frost each grabbed the last of the heavy boxes and started to lug them to the now waiting 'Rizzoli and Son's' truck. Angela grabbed up her purse, a box with breakable trinkets, and, after a quick 360º of the living room in which she silently said goodbye once more to her son, headed out to her own vehicle. She was looking forward to the peaceful ride home so that she could sort her thoughts and maybe even have a personal one-way conversation with Frankie.

Maura knew that Jane still needed to stop by the landlord's apartment before they left so she offered to take the very light weight box that the group thought would be okay for Jane to carry out to the car. "You go on and give the landlord the keys, and I'll meet you at the car." If by chance the landlord met them in the hallway as they were leaving, Maura could use the box as a personal shield. She wouldn't even care about it being a tripping hazard to have a box in her face; she would prefer to face plant on the sidewalk before she would like the landlord to point out who she really was to Jane.

Jane knocked on the wood door with a crude 'manager' sign taped to it. She tried to smile at the man, but she could not bring herself to even give a staged smile at this point. "Here's the key for 304, and the mailbox key. You wife said one of you would be able to open the door when Goodwill comes to collect the furniture and boxes when they come tomorrow, right?"

He took the key, "It's the least we can do for all you do for us. So how's the family doing?...I made it to the funeral. Was watching from the back since I got there late, so I didn't get a chance to see you, but I was really touched with what you and your Ma said...Frankie was a good man."

"Yes, he was, and we're hanging in there." Jane was finally able to find a tiny smile to convey her thanks for the kind words, but that smile fell off at his next statement that hit her like a punch to the gut, and that was saying a lot considering that would really hurt currently with her healing wounds.

"I already got the spare key yesterday from his girlfriend, so if I need anything else I'll give you a call. But we should be all set."

It took all of Jane's restraint to not grab the man by the shirt collar as she exclaimed, "You know her! What's her name?"

He wondered at the odd glint in Jane's eyes but assumed a sad tear, "No clue...she only visited, so I didn't need to add her to the lease or anything...Sorry, I'm really bad with names unless they're a tenant." He could tell that it meant a lot to Frankie's sister and so he tried to at least describe her. "Yesterday she was wearing jeans and a BPD t-shirt, carrying a duffle bag...Um, she's brunette, it was in a messy ponytail...and she's skinny, but I mainly noticed the red, puffy eyes."

"Thanks, that was a lot of help," she wished. The description was better than many she had at a crime scene though...and at least she didn't get the contradicting description like some gave, 'He was tall, but not too tall'...'muscular, in a scrawny kind of way.' Those were always interesting witness statements to try and interpret. But she just knew it was a cop. She wished she could go back to work already as she wanted to work on matching the basic description to an officer...and then confront her. She couldn't believe that she just missed her. One day too late to find any incriminating evidence to use to track her down as he said she had a duffel bag with her. She couldn't help but wondering if that bag was just one more thing she stole from her brother, besides his heart, but at least Grandma's Ring was out of her clutches. "Let me know if you need me to sign anything or need anything later."

"Will do. Get well soon."

She planned to...she had some ass kicking to do in the near future.

Jane was even more abrasive than usual when she got in the passenger seat of Maura's black Lexus. She was still not allowed to drive because, if there was a major accident, the steering wheel in her healing gut would probably be fatal, so Maura was playing chauffeur. She mumbled under her breath, "That little bitch."

_Oh this will be a pleasant ride._ Maura wished one of the others were still around so she could pass Jane over to someone else and just go home. She had a horrible stomachache at the moment...it felt like there was a lead weight pressing against her. She hoped that not asking Jane who she was talking about would make her silently fume. But Jane was too keyed up for that.

"Do you know what I found out from the landlord?" Jane asked as she fastened her seat belt.

_Oh, God._ "Nope."

"One day...I missed figuring out this mystery by one...damn...day! I'd ask you to hold me back when I learn who she it, but at this point I think it would take both Frost and Korsak to make sure I don't need your services."

Maura started driving toward Angela and Frank's house. She just stared at the road and worked on making sure that neither of them would need an ME's services that night. She stopped at a red light and looked over to see Jane clenching her fists in anger.

Jane noticed Maura looking at her hand but assumed she was glancing at the new adornment. She had put it on earlier thinking it would be a safer way to transport it home than loose in a purse or pocket. She uncurled her fist and moved her hand so Maura could get a better view. "It was my Grandmother's. Pretty, huh?"

_I knew that._ "Yep." She didn't realize that she said it in an annoyed tone. She turned her eyes back on the road as the car behind her honked to let her know the light had turned green.

A tense silence descended on the pair until Jane finally decided she needed noise after the depressing day of packing up her brother's life. "You're going to come in for dinner, right? I know Ma and Pop would really like you to join us...I know Frost and Korsak are planning to stay for a few."

"I really need to get home and go to bed. I need to catch up with the work I missed on Friday."

"I'm surprised you need to make up time as you're in the morgue so much. Even then, though, you only have to make up a partial day since you left my parent's place at noon. So an hour can't be too bad, can it?"

"There's still lots of paperwork from the numerous bodies that came through last week, especially after so many came in from the pile-up." She hadn't seen how much work had been completed since Thursday when she left, but she knew with the backlog that there would still be a lot more to finish. "I should not have even missed as much work as I did." She sounded peeved, but she was more angry at herself for the twisted truth she was using to try and get out of being social over dinner.

"Sorry that you felt you had to check up on me,"Jane's tone was just as biting as the one she heard from Maura.

"It wasn't just checking up on you that delayed me, there was also you calling the morgue to tell them I wasn't going in rather than just waking me up." Maura tried not to cringe at those heated words, as she had really been touched by her friend's thoughtfulness two days ago.

"Well EXCUSE me for trying to be a friend." After all the arguments in her parent's house, either between her parents or her Ma and herself, she knew that the emotions were just getting confused as she pushed her sadness to the side by embracing her anger, but it was already done and she was out for blood. "I was only hoping for a few moments for you to do the same after this really shitty day." She turned her piercing gaze out the side window.

Maura felt horrible for letting her emotions get out of hand. She couldn't deny Jane the friend she needed today as Maura remembered how hard it was yesterday when she left Frankie's place as his girl. She was about to apologize and let Jane know she would go in for a couple hours of pizza and conversation, but Jane was still seething.

Jane whipped her head around toward Maura to continue her hurtful jab, "What crawled up your ass and took up residence anyway?"

Maura knew that Jane wasn't talking about any intestinal parasites like Enterobius vermicularis, Giardia lamblia, Ancylostoma duodenale, Necator americanus, or Entamoeba histolytica which were some common intestinal parasites in the United States that could cause various health issues. If the tone of the conversation wasn't so explosive Maura would have thrown out that fact, but she somehow knew to keep quiet.

Jane went back to staring out the window in silence. Today was horrible as it left Jane wishing that her brother was still around...and now even hoping that her friend was still around in there somewhere.

Maura pulled behind Angela's car in the driveway as she already saw both the 'Rizzoli and Son's' truck and Frost's vehicle parked in front of the house. She noticed that Korsak's beat up car was parked across the street. She kept a tight grip on the steering wheel just as she was trying to keep a tight grip on her emotions. She could see movement through the living room curtains, but she was not quite ready to leave the usual sanctuary of her car...not that it was working so well that night. She needed a breather before she would deal with more people. She closed her eyes to take a few deep breathes, and heard the passenger side door open and close as Jane got out of the vehicle...or so she thought until a timid whisper reached her ear.

"Look...I didn't mean what I said. I seem to be lashing out a lot and quickly lately, just ask my Ma. When she finally came in Frankie's room to make me get up and do something, I sarcastically responded that she should be happy I wasn't pushing to go back to work so I couldn't get shot." She heard Maura's slight gasp and knew that she understood how hurtful those words would have been to her mother.

Maura wanted to apologize too, but thought it was more important to keep the conversation on emotions going even if she did loath them. She turned toward Jane to ask, "Have you thought about seeing the precinct psychologist?" She hoped she was not starting another argument with that line.

"I hate shrinks."

"You know you'll have to see him eventually?"

Jane glared over, but at least her anger this time was directed more at said shrink and the situation that made her need to see one. "I hate it when you're right."

Maura couldn't let that one go...plus she wanted to get back to their normal banter so she would know they would be alright, "You must hate it a lot then."

Seeing the smirk on Maura's face, Jane nudged her in the shoulder. There was still a bit of tension in the air, but they knew it would all be back to normal before too long. "And shouldn't I say that to you as you always wait for proof to make a conclusion...that I usually already called correctly." Jane could tell from the face Maura was making that she didn't really like that idea, "Okay, even then." The disgruntled look was less prominent, but was still there. "Mauraaaa."

"Okay, even."

Jane couldn't help laughing at the 'if I have to' pout that she was graced with before Maura opened her door and stepped out.

For the next few hours, the six individuals ate pizza and told stories. Soon, however, the lot of them were yawning, and three of them weren't as lucky as the others to just have to drag themselves upstairs before they fell asleep. Maura was the first to leave, but they all knew that she had farther to go so it was understandable. She went to give Jane a light hug when she stood up to leave and was about to say sorry for earlier, but Jane stopped her.

"Let's just leave it at 'it was a hard day.' We both spoke without thinking. It happens...nothing to be sorry for."

Maura knew there was a lot to be sorry for, but nothing she could put into words so she just nodded, said her good-byes to those still hanging around chatting and watching the nightly news, and finally left. She needed her space for awhile. She had no clue how else to keep functioning but to show her emotions only in the privacy of her car or bedroom.

* * *

AN: Oi, even bribes don't work lol...thanks for those who take the time, thought I'd at least put this up for you guys for the effort. Then back to the regularly scheduled program.


	24. Chapter 24

DISCLAIMER: I do not own this show, the books, or these characters. I only borrow them.

**Chapter 24**

Wednesday after cleaning out Frankie's apartment, Jane had a physical therapy appointment in town so she asked her Ma to drop her off at police headquarters afterward. She told her mom to pick her up in an hour; she mentioned needing to sign some paperwork on Marino's case, but more than anything she had a certain Lieutenant to talk to. On the way to Lieutenant Cavanaugh's office, Jane kept an eye out for any female brunette officer. So far she had only seen one, but she was too muscular for Jane to think that Frankie's landlord would have described her as skinny. She didn't see Frost and Korsak at their desks, but with the time of day, and knowing Vince, the pair was probably at lunch.

Jane knocked on the closed door. Not getting a response, she knocked again. She really hoped he wasn't out to lunch too as she knew she wouldn't get a chance to talk to him in person again until next week when she finally had the all clear to drive and do a bit more light work. She knew that only talking to him over the telephone would not help her argument that she was well enough for partial days. She breathed a sigh of relief when she heard a muffled, "Enter." So she opened the door and stepped into the office. She didn't realize that as she was entering the small room, Korsak came back to the office and started walking over to her.

Before she could say anything, Cavanaugh told her, "Go home, Rizzoli."

"Come on," with his piercing gaze she added, "sir...I'm not asking to get out on the streets yet, just part time for some desk duty...My physical therapist and Dr. Isles say that it would be therapeutic to sit up for longer periods of time to work on my healing muscles." Okay, so Dr. Isles never backed her, but she would...even if Jane had to twist her arm. She sat down in front of his desk to prove that she could do so without cringing, granted the pain pill she took after her PT torture season didn't hurt either.

"Yeah, let her come back. Her ugly mug and sunny disposition will make the rest of us work harder...at least with anything out of the office so as not to come back," Korsak joked from the open doorway.

Even though it was not her desk, Jane grabbed the nearest writing utensil to throw at Korsak.

"See, she knows how to get us out of the office," he was laughing hysterically as he walked away.

Jane turned back to her Lieutenant, "You know I'm desperate if I'm actually asking to do desk duty and paperwork. I'll be careful...the minute I get tired or I'm in pain I'll go home." Granted it was usually a cold day in hell before she would admit to being tired or in pain.

Cavanaugh sighed, "Get me an okay from your surgeon and physical therapist and I will let you come back on a few conditions. One – you go home the second you feel you need to. You overdo it and I just lose you even longer. Two – you don't work more than four hours for at least the first week. It's more cost-effective having you do some of your work rather than paying someone else overtime to pick up your slack. Three – you start seeing Dr. Zucker your first day back. We've all had our head shrunk, so it's your time in the hot seat." He finished barking out his commands. "You got me, Rizzoli?"

Jane hated the third condition, but she knew that she would need him to sign off on a psych eval to get her back to full active duty anyway. She might as well get the ball rolling on that. "You got yourself a deal." She stood up, shook his hand, and started to walk out the door.

"Rizzoli..."

She turned around hoping that he hadn't changed his mind in that short amount of time.

"I'm glad you're starting to feel well enough to come back. It's been too quiet around here without you...and your brother."

"Thanks, Lieutenant." She needed to end on a lighter note though. "See you Monday, probably not bright and early since I can only work half days. My boss is such a stick-in-the-mud." She hurried out the door and shut it behind her.

"RIZZOLI!"

She chuckled as she walked to the elevators. She really missed this place.

* * *

Jane took the elevator down to the floor with the morgue. She was in a good mood after her conversation with Cavanaugh and because she was stopping in briefly to say 'hi' to a friend. She watched Dr. Isles through the clear viewing window, which allowed the police or other interested parties to watch an autopsy without the harsh smells that accompanied those decomposing bodies, or when there was a possible biological hazard when the corpse was cut into. She watched as Dr. Isles closed up the y-incision on the older man she was working on and was glad that Maura would soon be finished so they could talk without the interruption of stating organ weights and autopsy findings. She finally walked into the autopsy suite to let Maura know that she was there to talk; she wasn't expecting to personally not realize that she was there on that early October morning.

Jane walked into the well-lit room where Dr. Isles was standing over a body on the autopsy table, but she saw a room bathed only in the emergency back-up lights. Her injured brother was lying on the table, and her stressed friend was trying to do all she could to save him. Her breath started coming faster. It hurt her healing body, but trapped in her memories, the pain in her chest just seemed like a physical representation of the dread she felt watching her brother dying in front of her.

She rushed forward to try and comfort her brother as he struggled to breathe and ran into a tray of equipment that Yoshima had readied for the next autopsy. She wasn't sure what tripped her up as there didn't appear to be anything blocking her way to the dead-person table. She used her left hand to help push herself up and felt a brief pain as something cut her near the base of her thumb.

Maura glanced over at the sound of metal instruments clattering on the ground and was shocked to see her usually calm and composed friend floundering about on the floor. She rushed over to try and help Jane up, but before she could get there, she watched as Jane put her hand down and was nicked with a sharp scalpel. She tore off the soiled paper garments and dropped them on the floor between the table and Jane as she didn't want to take the time to walk the extra ten feet or so over to the red biohazard bin. She reached Jane right after Yoshima, and they each grabbed an arm to help the frantic woman up.

Jane was helped up by Maura on her left side and Bobby Marino on her right. When she was standing again, she watched as Marino walked away. She thought he was hurrying back to guard the main doors but noticed that he came back over and handed some bandages to Maura.

Maura grabbed the gauze as Yoshima passed it over to her. She stared guiding Jane to the doors so she could get Jane out of there and over to the privacy of her office. She glanced back toward the mess on the floor and the body on the table before looking hopefully at her assistant, "Will you finish up here?"

He nodded his answer, still shocked at seeing the strong detective crumpled on the floor moments earlier.

Jane wasn't understanding what she was seeing: Marino was walking toward the autopsy table rather then guarding the door, Maura was trying to steer her out to the unsecured hallway rather than helping her brother, and the person on the table was too pale and not breathing. She tried to turn around and walk toward the table again, but Maura was surprisingly strong when she needed to be. Since she couldn't break away, she turned in to try and face her friend, "Maura, please help him." She pointed back toward her brother; struggling again to breathe as she noticed he was not.

Maura heard Jane plead with her to save Frankie, and she wished with all her heart she could. That the day really was repeating itself so she could try and change what happened. She saw the tears streaming down from deep chocolate eyes and knew she wasn't fairing much better. She clasped the gauze tightly against the cut in Jane's hand and hoped that holding on for dear life would help pull her friend back to the present rather than the hell of weeks earlier. She opened her office door and pushed it open with her hip in order to pull Jane into the room. She led them the few steps over to the couch and gently lowered the both of them so they were sitting next to each other.

Without the visual reminder of the location where she watched her brother struggling to live, Jane was slowly noticing all the changes, including the pain throughout her chest from the gunshot wound rather than from fearing for her brother, and the new throbbing pain from the cut on her hand that Maura was checking out.

Maura lifted the gauze up long enough to clear away the blood and look at how deep the cut was. She was glad to see that it was just a minor nick so it wouldn't need more than a band-aid or two. She heard a slight knock on the door and rested a hand on Jane's knee to give comfort. After a brief glance from Jane that showed she was faring a little better, Maura stood up and walked over to her closed office door. She cracked open the door, not wanting anyone else to get a glance of a rattled Jane, as she knew her friend would not like that, and was glad to see her assistant bearing gifts.

When he saw Maura blocking the small opening of the door, Yoshima started passing over the items he brought over: bottle of water, hydrogen peroxide, and several band-aids. He whispered, "How is she doing?"

Maura whispered back just as quietly as she took the items, knowing that Jane would not like to know that others were talking about her, "Better...Thank you." They shared a worried smile and went back to their respective tasks.

Jane took a few deep gulps of air, still feeling her heart thumping faster than normal. She was about to wipe her sweaty palms on her thighs but was stopped by Maura.

Dr. Isles grabbed Jane's left hand before she could smear blood on her pants. She turned the hand over and started to dab at the cut with some clean gauze that she had doused with hydrogen peroxide.

Jane was still a bit detached as she watched the cut bubble as it was cleaned. "I don't do well around scalpels, do I?" She moved her gaze toward the center of her palm and stared at the pale scar tissue that was a permanent reminder of Charles Hoyt pinning her hands to a musty basement floor with two sharp and shiny scalpels. "It's a good thing I don't have your job, huh?"

Maura placed two large band-aids over the cut and then placed the water bottle in the non-injured hand. She balled up the used gauze and wrappers and took them over to the small trashcan by her desk. As she was walking back over to the couch, Maura saw a tight frown on Jane's face. "Are you in pain?" She was wondering if Jane might have hurt more than just her hand when she fell.

"Yes." Nothing else, just a curt yes.

Maura knew Jane must really be hurting if she was actually admitting it, "Where are your pills?"

"Pills won't help this pain."

Maura knew all too well what Jane meant. She stayed quiet, hoping Jane would talk if she felt inclined to.

"I don't get it. I walked in the front door fine...even noted where I was shot," not that it was difficult to do as the sidewalk was still a little discolored from both her's and Bobby's blood. She started to comb her fingers through her unruly curls but then tightened her grip near her scalp in gesture driven by the warring confused and angry thoughts.

"You were more emotional that day for Frankie's well-being than your own, so it makes sense that the place where you saw him hurt would trigger a more poignant response."

"I don't know how you work in there all the time anymore."

Sometimes lately Maura had no clue how she did it either. "There have been a couple instances when I had a flashback. And when someone is causing a lot of noise near the evidence lockers I still jump. I mentioned them to Dr. Zucker when we spoke."

"One of my stipulations for coming back Monday is to start seeing him...joy." The last part was said with as much sarcasm as she could shove into that small word.

"Are you sure you're ready?"

"Oh, don't you start too." She worried for a second that Dr. Isles might not give her support if Cavanaugh would ask for her opinion. "By the way, do you agree that sitting more would help strengthened my stomach muscles?"

"Yes, all four muscles, Rectus Abdominis, External and Internal Abdominal Obliques, and Transverse Abdominis, compress the abdomen. Performing repetitive sit-ups would not be good with all your other injuries, so holding a seated position would be the next best thing for working those muscles out."

"Good, so if Lieutenant Cavanaugh asks, you can say yes."

"Jane!" Maura didn't know whether to be amused or annoyed with how Jane made sure to ask her opinion without reference so she would agree; then, if her boss did ask, it wouldn't be a lie. She was sneaky.

"It's only for partial days anyway, Maura. Never thought I'd say it, but I think desk duty won't be so bad." At Maura's confused look, Jane added, "if I'm not actively working homicides, then there is no reason I would _have_ to come to the morgue." She gave a humorless chuckle. "Maybe I'll have to do some of that immersion therapy crap with Frost – him so he'll stop contaminating crime scenes, and me to be able to not flip out down here."

"It gets easier." They sat in silence for awhile, each hoping that it would get easier sooner rather than later. Finally Maura asked, "What are your plans for coming back? You know you can stay at my place so you're not totally alone."

"No, thanks. I want to get back to my normal routine as quickly and as closely as possible."

"I understand. But promise me you will call if you need anything."

Ironically, at the word 'call' Jane's cell phone rang. The ring tone letting her know that her mother was calling. She pulled the phone out from her pocket but didn't bother to answer as she noticed the time. "I was supposed to be outside ten minutes ago. I'm surprised Ma actually waited that long to check up on where I am." She stood up and walked to the office door and was quickly followed by Maura.

As they walked the hallway past the autopsy suite, Maura made sure to stay between Jane and the viewing windows. Not that it mattered much as Jane kept her eyes focused on the elevator in front of her. In the elevator ride to the lobby, Maura asked, "How about you stay at my place Saturday night? That way you can pick up Jo and start getting back to normal like you want. Plus the walks with her will do you both some good. Longer walks would work on building up your stamina and help Jo because I think she is tired of mainly just running around in my backyard, and she has been lonely with only a slow tortoise to try and play with."

"So how have the two behaved together?"

Maura just laughed. "The first night, Jo thought the best place to sleep would be curled up on Bass's shell...at least until her bed started moving. But they've oddly become two unexpected friends." Like their owners' friendship.

"I would have liked to have seen that."

"Don't worry. I took pictures." With the humorous conversation, Maura didn't realize that they had exited the elevator, crossed the lobby, and were about to exit through the doors she had, until that moment, bypassed. She held on to Jane's elbow more forcefully than before and hoped that those looking, including Jane, just assumed that she was making sure her friend got down the stairs in one piece...but it was more hoping she made it down the stairs in one piece. Luckily, with Jane by her side, she was constantly reminded that her friend was not a few feet away and bleeding on the sidewalk; therefore, she didn't need Jane to reciprocate and pick her up off the ground.

Jane wondered why Maura held onto her arm tighter. She assumed that it was because she was walking down stairs, but Maura had seen her walk safely down more stairs at her parents' house. She was about to complain when Maura held the passenger side door open for her because she wasn't an invalid, for the most part, anymore. The proverbial light bulb came on though when she noticed how Maura was standing with her back to where she was shot. Jane had missed seeing the world in terms of puzzles to be solved as she needed to on crime scenes, but she felt sad watching her friend struggle. She gave a wry smile and nodded to point out the spot behind Maura, "We make a sorry pair, don't we?"

"That we do. So Saturday?"

"What's Saturday?" Angela asked as she walked around the car. She gave Maura a quick hug, ignoring the slight tension in Maura's shoulders as she did so. "Thanks again for helping out last weekend." She watched Maura nod her acknowledgment.

"I asked about coming back next week for partial days..."

"Jane!" Angela's exclamation had no less than three police officers turn their heads to see what was going on.

Jane wished she could have sunk farther into the front seat. "I need to get back to my normal routine...and so do you and Pop," she added when it looked like her mother was about to interrupt. "So I was going to stay at Maura's Saturday so I can pick up Jo and then go home the next day." She turned her gaze from her Ma to Maura. "It feels like I'm back in grade school and having to ask for permission to go sleep over at a friend's house."

"I missed out on all of that sleep over stuff until now."

Angela understood what her daughter meant about getting back to normal...or as normal as they could without Frankie. She was also saddened by hearing Maura mention the normal childhood delights that she had missed out on. "Fine, you both have my permission." She smiled at Maura and Jane. Two very different girls with two very different upbringings and responses.

"Thanks, Angela." Maura was glad to at least get to know her as a parent through interactions with Jane as she missed out on them with Frankie.

"I wasn't asking for permission." As her Ma's smiling gaze turned into a staged scowl as it turned toward her, Jane threw out, "But thanks all the same." She rolled her eyes as she pulled the door shut. Letting the other women know that she, at least, thought the conversation was over.

Maura started walking with Angela toward the back of the car. Before Angela could round the car, Maura stopped her and kept her voice down as she said, "Jane might have nightmares tonight...she didn't deal well seeing where Frankie lay injured for so long." She felt horrible for the pained look that etched into Angela's face, but she would feel even worse if she said nothing and no one knew to keep an eye on her friend.

Rather than hugging her again, Angela gave a thankful squeeze to Maura's shoulder before she finished the walk around the car, got in, and left Maura standing alone on the sidewalk.

Maura watched the car round the next corner and then couldn't stop her gaze from looking down toward the reddish-brown stain on the sidewalk. She didn't need tests to tell her that it was blood...she saw it drain from both Jane and Marino that day a little over a month ago. She hoped neither she nor Jane would have nightmares that night, but she knew how they liked to follow the hard days.

* * *

Hoping to relax after the stress filled day, Maura Isles placed in a CD of instrumental music of a pan flute that she purchased at a heritage festival she was dragged into going with a fellow anthropology studies student in her college days. While Sandra grilled anyone she could find for a research paper on the customs of early Native Americans, Maura wandered the booths full of artwork, herbal remedies, and was mesmerized by the sounds from a man playing a wooden flute. The CD never failed to relax her, but she didn't think to reread the soundtrack before she popped it into her player and pressed play. The instrumental version of _The Rose_ whispered through her sound system. She didn't need to hear someone singing the words. Her mind filled them in: "It's the heart afraid of breaking that never learns to dance...It's the soul afraid of dyin' that never learns to live." Was that the truth? Was she the one who worked and lived more in a world of death as living scared her?...She knew it was, and her anger and sadness at her stupidity in life situations tore at her. Similarly she tore at the stereo. She pulled at it so hard that the cord ripped from the wall socket, and finally she threw it across the room, not seeing or caring where it went. She tried to make it over to wearily collapse on her couch, but she didn't quite make it. She crumbled to the ground beside the couch, kneeling there with her head buried in the cushions as tears and memories bombarded her.

* * *

~2 months into relationship~

Frankie knelt down in front of her as she sat on her couch. _Please don't do this,_ her mind begged, but she was shocked into silence by this unexpected move after only two months of seeing each other as more then just colleagues and acquaintances through Jane.

"Will you marry me?" Frankie asked, smiling up at her with that boyish grin that had so captured her heart and holding a beautiful ring. The silence was deafening as he waited for an answer, and she waited for her neurons to start firing so she could come up with something...anything, to say.

She really wished she would have done better then a sorrowful, "I can't," when she finally could speak. He already knew about her disastrous previous marriage and her reluctance to ever use the word love in a conversation. She had thrown out all of the horrible bits about herself and her past within the first two weeks of their seeing each other. Everyone left eventually: either from their own free will or through death. So why not sooner rather then later she always thought as she self-sabotaged any interaction that might have developed into a real relationship? But somehow the Rizzoli's did not measure up to her hypothesis about people. Neither Jane as a friend, nor Frankie as a lover, were scared away by the myriad of facts she hid behind or her self-recriminations. "It's too soon. How can you know it's the real thing?"

"I just do. I'm sure you could tell me all about it better then I could...chemical processes, genetic need to find a mate and have kids and all that," Frankie chuckled before he sobered a bit. "We both work with the worst of mankind, we see death everyday... you learn from that not to let a good thing slip by... not to wait too long. This is a good thing, Maura."

He was still gazing up at her...lovingly yes, but his smile had turned a bit sad as he stated. "You never have been good with the living, huh." It wasn't a question, he knew her too well for that. He could feel her tense up as he was still holding onto her hands from his kneeling position. Before she could further pull away from him, as she already was mentally, he got up and sat close to her on the couch with his arm around her shoulder. To comfort, but to also keep her grounded. "How about this? Keep it...as a promise. I already know I love you Maura. You can keep it as a promise for whenever you're ready for more. I'm not going anywhere." He took a deep breath of the scent that was only her, strong ivory soap, and an odd mustiness that in that back of his mind he registered as being from her long hours in the morgue, but as it was a part of her, it didn't seem to gross him out like it might have otherwise.

She stood up and walked into her bedroom. _Great,_ Frankie though, _Man, did I screw that up._ He was cautious about what she might say or do when he saw her walking back into the room moments later: kick him out, kill him in a way an autopsy would never be able to figure out a cause of death, pretend the last few minutes never happened. A major smile broke out on his face though when he noticed her holding a thin golden chain in her hands. Quietly he took the chain from her when she was in reach, slipped the ring on it as he earlier hoped to slip it on a slender finger, and Maura turned around so he could clasp the necklace firmly in place. His fingers fumbled with the clasp, but finally he got it secured. With her back to him still, he leaned in to kiss where the clasp lay on her smooth skin. He gave her shoulders a brief squeeze before turning her around and giving her a proper kiss on the mouth. "Let me show you how serious I am, Maura." He started to pull her into the room she had just vacated. "I love you."

He wasn't expecting a reply to that, or even a 'ditto', but he did get a quiet, "You deserve so much better, Frankie."

He sat her on the edge of the bed and said with each word punctuated by a light kiss, "Never...I ...Want...You!" And he showed her just how much he wanted her...how much he loved her.

* * *

Maura raised her head as she whispered to the empty room, "but you did deserve so much better...from me, Frankie." She removed the now empty chain that she had worn for the last few days. She hurled it across the room to join the broken stereo and dented wall. She stood up on shaky legs and walked toward her bedroom. To spend another depressing night alone, hopefully not plagued with nightmares.

* * *

AN: From here on the story goes much darker. We know Jane and Maura as homicide detective and medical examiner respectfully, and so they see some of the worse mankind has to offer. There will be blood, guts, rape, autopsies, and interviews with some really twisted perps. So if you want to keep with the lighter side only, wait to read the last chapter when posted in a really long time. There will still be the fun banter between all mixed in at times, and the many interesting responses from others learning about Maura and Frankie, but just wanted to warn about being case heavy from now on.

Plus if you've read the books, or not...when I deal with Hoyt his MO is more book related than the show. So he's a bit scarier...and I definitely touch on the actions that got him named 'The Surgeon'. Let me know if you need any explanation of my odd combination of show, books, and random thoughts.

Just a heads up, and hope you still read and enjoy...if enjoy can be the right word when dealing with homicides.


	25. Part 2: Major Case 1

DISCLAIMER: I do not own this show, the books, or these characters. I only borrow them.

**Dedicated to all Veterans.**

**Chapter 25**

Maura knew the day was going to be horrible from the get go. After a night of tossing and turning, between a few moments of deep sleep where personalized horror movies were played, she started out tired. Not even thinking about the chilly weather outside, Maura opted for one of her usual dresses and heels. Before she could even pull into the parking garage at work, she was called over to a homicide scene at the request of Detective Korsak; she would have to _thank_ him later for that. Usually she would be in the office most of the day, and, if she would be called out to a crime scene, many were indoors so the wind would be blocked...but not this morning. Today the body was lying in an alley, near the corner of Temple Street and Cambridge Street, that was further torturing her with the accelerated air flow between the two tall rows of brick buildings. It was still too early for the sun to be out, let alone high enough to not be blocked by the buildings, so she couldn't even hope for a brief caress of warmth on her face. She pulled her black jacket closed. Granted, when she stepped toward the body, she was reminded that at least she could still feel the cold, and she had the possibility of warming up later...the Caucasian male did not.

She showed her credentials to the rookie from District A-1 who was standing by the yellow police tape at the end of the alley and was allowed under the flimsy barricade. As she continued down the alley, she saw Detective Frost almost clinging to the building on her right. He was breathing deeply, but she could tell from the area around him that he hadn't thrown up yet...at least not there. She took the last few steps toward the body, snapped on a pair of latex gloves, and then crouched down beside the younger male. He was laying face down. His ankles bound together with silver duct tape, and, with the odd position of the arms under him, she thought that his wrists might also be bound. She saw legs approach her in her periphery and looked up to see a grim Detective Korsak, shining a flashlight on the area as the light from the street lamps did not reach this far into the alley.

"He was found about two hours earlier," Korsak was not happy at the long delay from learning about the man lying there. "More than half of that time was spent as the witness tried to find someone to call it in. A cashier and manager at a nearby store wouldn't as they thought, being homeless, the man must also be crazy. He finally found a bike cop patrolling the area who called it in after checking out the scene."

From growing up, Maura was taught that monetary means meant everything. She tried to step away from that life and bias as quickly as possible, but it was sad to see that she could still see it in her day-to-day interactions.

She watched her death investigator, Robert Aims, snap pictures from various angles. She knew that the crime scene unit would take their own pictures, before and after the body was removed, but she liked making sure there was another copy in case something happened to one. After the pictures were taken, Dr. Isles and Aims rolled the body over, and the picture of pain that the man suffered was shown even further. Because of the low lighting, Maura wasn't sure if the dead man's hair was dirty-blond, or just literally dirty blond; she would know for sure when he was cleaned up during the external examination. All evidence would be documented as it was, and then he would be cleaned to make sure there were no bruises or superficial wounds hiding underneath the blood and dirt. However she did know that the red in his hair had nothing to do with pigmentation and everything to do with the dried blood from the two wounds on the head. There was also blood down the front of his shirt near where his hands were bound together. She quickly noticed where that blood had come from. "He's been moved...dumped here. With both the gunshot wound to the head, and the missing index finger," she pointed toward the right hand that now only had four digits, "there should be more blood around the body."

"Plus, if he was shot here, there should be blood spatter, but I'm not seeing any. The witness says he didn't hear a gunshot, just saw the body being pulled out of the backseat of a dark SUV...So was he dead before or after he was shot and the finger was sawed off?" Korsak asked.

"With the amount of blood around the two wounds, his heart was still pumping when they were delivered. No clue which wound was first, but they are both antemortem wounds. Granted if the finger was severed after the GSW, then it had to have been very soon after as the bullet to the skull is probably cause of death. Plus I don't know yet if the finger was sawed off. It might have been a clean cut." Though, with the ragged edges of the wound, she was pretty sure there was nothing clean about that cut.

More pictures were taken from this new view. She placed a bag over the bound hands hoping that there might be some skin or blood from the assailant under the fingernails. She left the duct tape, even over his mouth, in place as there might be skin cells or fingerprints on them that she didn't want to disturb. After putting the camera away, Aims handed Dr. Isles a syringe and went on with the documentation of the scene. The morgue needed: body temperature, ambient temperature, weather, and the time when the body was discovered as all would help in determining time of death. While he wrote, Maura collected a sample of fluid from the eye for another way to double check time of death.

Korsak had to look away as he was squeamish every time he saw the Doc poke a needle in someone's eye, and he did not want to pull a BBK moment and lose his breakfast too. He was glad that Frost was still down the alley a bit so he didn't need to play the tough guy and keep watching as he ridiculed Frost for the same reaction. Looking in this new direction, he noticed a black object about the size of a desk of cards lying next to the nearby dumpster. He walked over and picked up the wallet in his gloved hand, and started going through its contents.

With something else to focus on other than the dead man, Frost walked over to Korsak, "What have you got?"

"A wallet. Now why would a man's wallet have credit cards, cash, but no driver's license?" He wished it was just a horrible riddle like it sounded and not a question needing an answer to help define the life in front of him.

"Maybe he didn't drive?" Frost wondered. But that idea was tossed out as Dr. Isles passed a set of keys over to Aims that definitely had a key to a vehicle on it. "Or not...it wasn't a robbery or the money and the cards would be gone while the ID was left."

"The killer might have wanted a trophy," Korsak said. It would have been nice to have a picture ID so they could match the body with a name right then, but the credit cards had names at least so they had more to start with than they did at many crime scenes. Korsak handed the wallet over to be tagged as just one more piece of evidence in this young man's death. He looked over toward the corpse and noticed that he was already being pushed on a gurney toward the Medical Examiner's vehicle.

Maura walked over to the two detectives she knew well, "I'll let you know what I find out. Check about the name you have and see if you can get me a positive ID of the victim by finding friends, family, or even just his dentist so I can get dental films. And if you find his finger, get it to me as soon as possible."

Korsak looked at the dumpster. He had found the wallet near it, maybe the finger was in it. He wondered which rookie or crime scene technician he could get to rummage through the trash. "Will do, Doc."

* * *

Frost and Korsak left the crime scene, leaving two already smelly investigators rifling through the dumpster. Korsak took the witness, thinking that the two older men would be able to talk well together. Frost had the name from the credit cards written in his tiny notebook so he could start checking out the name, and how to get into contact with anyone who might know who he was, or even to find the person that name belonged to if the deceased stole the wallet off someone.

Detective Korsak walked through the lobby to the metal detectors. He emptied out his pockets to walk through without setting the machine off, but the man he was bringing in to interview had nothing, not even a home to live in, so both were thrown when the alarm went off. Korsak watched as the unkempt man thought of something and pulled out a small trinket from the worn pocket in his jacket and a small multi-tooled pocket knife. With that gone, he was able to walk through without setting the alarm off. Korsak picked up the pocket knife to hold onto it while the witness was at headquarters and let the man pick up the other object - an old, shiny medal. The store owner wrote the homeless man off as being crazy, and Korsak didn't think much about him other than being a homeless witness...but seeing the medal made him question his assumptions. The witness held on to no personal objects other than the clothes on his back, a pocket knife probably more for the silverware build in than for protection, and that Silver Star.

Korsak showed the witness to the interview room and then went to get them both a cup of coffee. Going back into the small room, Korsak sat across the table and pushed over one of the coffees. He watched the man across from him ignore the packets of sugar and creamers and enjoy everything about the cup of black coffee: the warmth against his arthritic hands, the strong aroma, and the full-bodied taste as it slid down his throat. After letting him enjoy his coffee for a few moments, Korsak asked, "Can you tell me your name for the record, and what it was you saw this morning?"

In a strong, clear voice, the witness answered, "Name is Anthony Cummens...Tony." The tone seemed to demand respect, and there was almost a pause where a military rank could have been attached. "I saw a dark SUV, either black or a deep blue, pull into the alley and stop near a dumpster. Someone got out of the driver's seat. He left the car on, so I was able to see a little from the headlights...I noticed the vehicle had Massachusetts plates with a 7-2 in it."

Korsak interrupted, "Were the numbers as seventy-two or did you just noticed a seven and a two in the license plate?"

"It was seventy-two. It's easy to remember as that's when I was shipped back." He reached a hand down to massage his right thigh that at one time was riddled with shrapnel, forcing him to come home...at least he was lucky enough to make it home in relatively one piece and not in a body bag. He shook his head slightly to bring his focus back on the present. "The driver had light hair, either blond or dirty-blond. I didn't want to look very close or long because it's already dangerous on the streets... It's safer to blend into the shadows and not be seen as a threat." It might be safer, but as a Veteran, Tony hated being seen as just a weak, old, and senile homeless man. "He went around the car to the back door on the passenger side, and he pulled out something heavy, left it by the dumpster, and hurried back around the car so he could get out of there...After several minutes I walked over to see what he dumped. I've seem many men dragged to safety, or just dragged away so they could go home to their families, so I was fairly certain that it was a body. I check for a pulse even though I saw his injuries, and then I went to try and find someone to call the police."

"Do you know what time it was when the body was dumped?"

"I noticed at the first store I came to that it was just before four in the morning. But I'm not sure how much time passed before then. Then I just wandered around until I saw a police officer on a bicycle down the street. I'm sure he thought he was just going to deal with a drunk and disorderly. Instead he got a murder." Tony gave a humorless laugh.

"Any other information you think would be important?" At a shake of Tony's head, Korsak asked, "If we need to find you for follow-up questions, are you usually in that general area?"

"When the weather is bad I hang out at the West End Library. Even though I read when I'm in there, there is one librarian who won't let me stay." He smirked over at Korsak, "She threatens to call the cops if I don't leave. Else I spend some quiet, thinking time down the street at the Old West Church."

Korsak knew it was going to be a hassle to solve this crime, let alone find the witness again when they needed his testimony. "Thanks for taking the time to answer my questions, and even more for taking the time to find someone to let us know about the young man in the alley. If you don't mind waiting for a few, I'll see if my partner can think of any more questions to ask."

Tony said, "Don't have anywhere else to be." He watched the detective stand up and walk toward the door. Before Korsak could get to the door and leave, Tony lamented, "At least they haven't thrown you out to pasture."

Korsak held on to the doorknob and looked back, "I was on the sidelines until my old partner got shot and Detective Frost needed a stand-in...for that cost I would have stayed desk bound."

"Yeah, I understand...not fun to see your men get shot and injured, or worse killed."

"No, It's not," and with that Korsak left the interview room.

Detective Korsak walked back to his desk and tossed his jacket on the back of the chair before he collapsed into it. "It's not even eight in the morning yet and I feel like I need a nap. So where are we so far?"

Frost half leaned-half sat on the corner of Korsak's messy desk. "I searched the internet for the name on the credit cards. Found a local address and a picture that looks like the guy downstairs. At least minus the hole in his head. I left a message on the phone number for that address, but I'm not sure anyone else lives there...At least no one does based on the lease, but that doesn't always mean anything. So what happened to our witness?"

"He's still in the interview room. He is full of many surprises, including being a Vietnam Vet and very perceptive. The biggest issue so far is going to be how to find him again when we have more questions, or hopefully this goes to trial."

"Why don't you go get all three of us some breakfast and let me do some thinking on that issue."

"You know me, can't say no to food," Korsak said as he jumped up with renewed energy.

"Bet our witness would say the same."

Frost called a few nearby shelters until he found one that would be able to take Tony in. When Korsak came back from the cafeteria with something that could pass for breakfast, Frost took the greasy sandwich into the interview room so he could tell Tony the good news about finding a shelter. He wasn't expecting the response he got to the _good news_ though.

"I don't like handouts."

Frost had to think fast, "It's not...the food is to make sure you can make it for a couple more hours in case we have any more questions for you. This way no attorney can fight that you weren't thinking clearly because you were hungry...um, and we need to know where you'll be so we can find you if we have more questions in the upcoming days."

Tony's mouth turned up in a half smile before he started inhaling the veritable feast in front of him. Glad he at least had info that could double as payment, and for the young man in front of him for understanding his need to do something for the food and shelter.

* * *

Dr. Isles spent the next few hours, after she returned to the morgue, performing the autopsy of the unknown male. All she was sure about so far was that he was a Caucasian male, in his late 20s or early 30s, with white-blond hair, who was tragically killed by a bullet to the head. She sent the body fluids she collected to the Toxicology Lab, the duct tape and clothing were sent to the Hair and Fiber Lab with the hopes that Erin would be able to find some forensic evidence to point to a killer. She then gathered up all the other information she found so far to paint a picture of how he died and took it up to the lead detectives.

Korsak noticed her first and asked, "So what do we have, Doc?"

"Caucasian male, late twenties or early thirties. He was sitting upright for awhile after he died. Blood started pooling in his feet, and there was also lividity on the buttocks and lower back which told me he was sitting. He was moved before he was dead for more than four hours because rigor mortis didn't start to set in until after he was in a prone position rather than a seated posture. He wasn't in full rigor yet so it was less than twelve hours postmortem when we found him. Based on the tests I've run so far, I calculated he died around 10pm to midnight.

"The cause of death was the perforated gunshot wound to the head. His right parietal and temporal bones were shattered as the bullet impacted the skull. Between the bullet tearing through the brain, and the bone fragments being forced into the tissue, even if he made it to a hospital, it wouldn't have changed the outcome." She passed over the cranial X-ray and the pictures of the GSW as she talked. Pointing out the bone fragments forced into the soft tissue, and the additional damage to the left side of the skull as the bullet exited, on the black and white images.

Dr. Isles moved over to the close-up of the hand and noticed that Frost was looking at the wall behind the desk in order to not see the bloody pictures. "The right index finger was cut off with a serrated knife and took many repetitive slices based on the nicks on the head of the metacarpal bone and the ragged edges of the skin around the incision. The hands were bound after the finger was removed. I can tell because of the extensive amount of blood between the skin and tape, rather than the majority being on the outside of the tape as you would expect if he was bound and then the finger was removed."

"Are we sure it wasn't a suicide." Both Dr. Isles and Frost just looked at Korsak like he had grown a second head.

Frost said, "Did you see a gun anywhere nearby?"

"Plus, looking at the hands, I noticed that he was right-hand dominant; he has a callus on his middle finger on that hand from holding a writing implement for an extended amount of time. So, unless he shot himself and then had an accomplice cut off his finger and transport him to where he was found, then no. That and I didn't find any gunshot residue anywhere but on the man's scalp. Between the powder burns, the gray-black stippling inside the wound, and the star shaped laceration around the entrance site as the gases from the fired round caused the skin around the gun to blow out as the pressure in the subcutaneous tissue became too much, I know that it was a contact gunshot entrance wound. Often in suicides, the shooter has some hesitation, and so the position of the gun is usually not right against the skull. A near contact shot would present differently." She pulled out the color photo from under the cranial X-ray to show what she meant even though they had seen it live and up-close.

Korsak was slightly lost in all the information, but he did get the gist. "Ooh-kaay, so no, not a suicide."

"No, not a self-inflicted suicide at least. Not to say he didn't ask a friend to shoot him. You have a name I can check out? I can get medical records to see if he had any terminal illness that might have caused him to want to end his life early. If so, it would have to be neurological as I didn't see any tumors, and his organs all looked healthy."

"But how many friends do you think would cut off a finger and keep a picture ID as a memento of said friend?" Frost asked as he handed over a yellow post-it note with the name 'Carl Clark'. "Definitely not the type of friend I would want."

"That is a question for you to find out. So I'll leave you to your puzzle, and I'll let you know when I get any additional pertinent information."

"Korsak is impertinent, but I'm sure that's not what you meant," Frost said.

Maura just shook her head at the odd antics of the pair in front of her. Not even lunch yet and they were already throwing out jokes at the other's expense...the case must already be hitting a nerve.

Korsak proved Frost correct though as he rudely stuck out his tongue at the younger man, before he turned to Maura and said, "By the way, Doc, we have his boyfriend coming in soon to try and get a positive ID on the victim. Can you have him ready for viewing in about an hour?"

Dr. Isles set the body up to be seen through the viewing window; that way the person's loved ones did not have to deal with the smells of death...dealing with the basics of death was hard enough on the families as she understood all too well now. She made sure there were no other bodies in view, and the closed up y-incision was covered with a pristine white sheet; his right arm was also underneath the sheet so the missing digit was not in view. The head was positioned with a few towels on the side. It looked a bit like the head was sinking into a very comfortable pillow, but it made sure that the bullet wounds were not visible. The blood and dirt had all been washed away during the external examination of the corpse, so covered with the sheet, and resting on the 'pillow', it could almost look like he was just asleep...even if it was a sleep he would never wake up from.

When the boyfriend was in place, Maura opened the blinds so he could see the victim. She saw the shocked look on the man's face before he tried to bonelessly fall to the ground. He would have if Frost wouldn't have grabbed him on his descent. She waited for an affirmative. She had seen many parents and spouses react this way because they were grateful that the life ended and 'sleeping' on that table was _not_ their loved one. Frost looked in the window with a sad look and nodded. She nodded back to let him know that she understood, and then closed the blinds. At least she had a name now to add to the file. Carl Clark, a 31 year-old, Caucasian male...just one more person through the morgue who died much too young and left behind family and friends to grieve for what might have been.

* * *

Detective Frost hated the next part of his job, but too often it was a necessary evil. Interviewing the spouse or partner of the murder victim. He set Jonathon Tucker up in on of the interview rooms and went to grab a soda for the man. It was always helpful to put them at ease and chat as friends: best case scenario, the person left behind could use the comfort; worse case scenario, the partner let something slip to point out a motive or outright confessed. It was a sad truth that the person closest to the deceased was often the perpetrator of their murder.

"Thanks for coming so quickly, Mr. Tucker. It will help us speed up the process to find out what happened."

"Yeah, no problem," the man sounded defeated and looked to be in shock from learning that he was never going to see his lover again. He didn't even get the chance to say goodbye and kiss him before Carl left for work the previous night. He worked third shift at a nearby warehouse and was supposed to be walking in the front door of their apartment about now, not laying on an autopsy table. "Anything... I can do...to help." Jon had to take a few deep breaths as he talked, hoping to keep his emotions at bay while in front of the stranger. But that thought was soon destroyed when he couldn't stop the tears and his breath came out more quickly as the truth was starting to catch up with him. "I was going to propose to him...been planning...but I guess I waited too long."

Frost waited a few moments for Jon to get his breathing under control before asking, "If you could answer a few questions, that would really help." He kept his tone calm. Jane once joked that he sounded like he was trying to talk down a wild animal when he did interviews like this one. But with loved ones it often was. One never knew when they would attack, run for shelter, or just freeze. At the jerking nod from the other side of the table, Frost started the interview in earnest. "Where were you last night around 10pm to 1am, and later around 4am."

Jonathon's pained eyes shot up and he finally looked straight at the detective, knowing what the question was really asking. "Not killing Carl, if that's what you're getting at."

Frost could hear the anger. "It's a routine question. I need to ask it. The more close acquaintances we can rule out, the quicker we can get to the truth. You want the truth I'm assuming." That usually always helped smooth things over, as even if the person would not want the truth to be found as it implicated him, he couldn't really say that without placing a big 'I Did It!' sign on his forehead.

"Of course I do." Jon still sounded angry, but not all of it was focused on Frost anymore. "I was watching some semi-decent medical drama...forget the name, but they have a few cute male doctors so I put up with the crappy writing. Then I watched the news, before going to bed...and before you ask, no. No one can verify that as Carl works nights. As he should have been working last night...why wasn't he at work?" The last question was asked quietly to the air. Wanting an answer, but also dreading it as part of it dealt with Carl dying.

"Do you know of anyone who might want to hurt Carl?" Frost had his notepad ready hoping to add a few names to go trace down.

"Not really. Anyone who really knew him, loved him...Um, but there were always those who disliked us because we're gay. Carl gets in anyone's face if he thinks they are being a bully for any reason. There's a teen, Danny Thomas, in our neighborhood who is struggling with questions...trying to figure out who he is. Carl used to talk to him, until Danny's father came over about a month ago and told him to quit talking to his son...he let his fists do a lot of the talking for him."

"Was there a police report made?"

"I believe so, but Carl didn't want to press charges as he said Danny was already going through too much without being put in the middle even longer. Carl wanted a report to document what happened in case something else would happen though..." he looked up fearfully at Frost, "You don't think his murder was that something do you? I should have pushed Carl to press charges and maybe this wouldn't have happened."

"I'll look into Mr. Thomas, but it might not have anything to do with him. So don't beat yourself up. This is very helpful. Thank you." The pair stood up and walked out of the room and toward the elevators. Before the elevator doors could close Jon from view, Frost said, "I'll let you know when we have anything. And I'm very sorry for your loss."

He walked over to his desk and wearily took a seat. He swiveled the chair around to face Korsak's desk. "I have a partner with no alibi, and a homophobic father of a confused teen who used to speak with our victim. I really hope this doesn't turn out to be a hate crime."

"I hear ya. I got a partial plate from the witness. Why don't you see if either of your possibles has a dark SVU with the numbers 7-2 in the license plate."

"Why me!" He glared at Korsak, _that was not a whine_.

"Because you are our resident computer genius," he just grinned evilly. He heard Frost mumble under his breath as he checked out the names with their registered vehicles. Korsak was sure his ears would be burning if he could actually hear what was being said.

* * *

The normal nine-to-five work day had come and gone, but the two homicide detectives and one medical examiner were not able to get out of the office for another three hours. Their work day had been over fifteen hours, they were no closer to an answer, and all three were about to fall asleep on their feet.

"Hey Doc, want to join us for a quick bite to eat before heading home?" Frost asked as the three were walking to their vehicles in the parking garage.

"Wish I could, but I need to get home and let Jo out as I could only get my neighbor to let her out once today. Plus, at this point, I want sleep more than food...and eating a large meal right before sleeping is not healthy. However a snack containing tryptophan and carbohydrates can help calm the brain so you can sleep better."

"Maybe not healthy, but better than my grumbling stomach keeping me up. But whatever," Korsak mock pouted, "enjoy your turkey sandwich...I prefer my greasy food and heartburn any day."

"I'm surprised you know that about turkey," Frost couldn't help throwing out.

"Of course...had to figure out why I always passed out on Thanksgiving before the games were over," Korsak joked as Frost got into his car, and the other two continued on. "So how are you really doing, Maura?"

"I'm tired...Really, I'm okay."

Korsak looked at her like he didn't quite believe her but wasn't going to call her on it, at least currently. "Alright. Sleep well, Doc."

She could tell from his expression that he wasn't really buying it, so she gave him a grateful smile for not pushing the issue tonight. "Good night." She got in her car and let her mind wander away from the current case for awhile as she drove home. Hopefully sleep that night would be quick in coming, and truly restful.

* * *

AN: very annoying writing one thing and then right before posting watch an episode to show the idea wrong lol- oh well, Korsak just playing tough when Dr. Isles pokes someone in the eye :) At least in my little world.

And by the way, chapter 35-ish is earliest possibility for Jane to learn about Maura and Frankie...tried to hurry it but other things jumped in the story...blame them :D


	26. Chapter 26

DISCLAIMER: I do not own this show, the books, or these characters. I only borrow them.

**Chapter 26**

The detectives and Dr. Isles were in for a shock when they arrived at work the following morning. While they were at home sleeping, or trying to sleep as the case may be, another body with similar wounds was found. As the ME and detectives called to a crime scene near the Boston Common Frog Pond were not at work the previous shift, they didn't know about Mr. Clark's case; therefore they didn't know to call in the original investigators. The autopsy and initial report were already written up by the time they learned of the similar case, only about an hour before Detectives Frost and Korsak and Dr. Isles arrived at work that Friday morning.

As Dr. Isles was walking in the door to work minutes before eight am, she was accosted by one of her colleagues, Dr. Costas. He handed over the report on an autopsy he performed earlier that morning. At a brief glance as she walked down the hallway, she first thought he was showing her the report she wrote up the night before. She wondered for a moment if he might have found some additional piece of information to add to Carl Clark's report, as just a quick glance told her of the gunshot wound to the head and the missing digit. But then she noticed the differences: the body was a female of Middle Eastern decent, in her early twenties; the gunshot wound to the head was delivered with a smaller caliber bullet between the eyes; and the index finger missing was from the left hand.

"Is the time of death correct?" Maura looked up confused at what she was reading.

"I double checked my calculations when I learned about the similar case yesterday, and the TOD determined on that one."

"Well then triple check them." She passed the file back over to Dr. Costas. She knew she would do the same, but there had to be some difference.

"I checked the vitreous potassium level from both eyes, just in case there was an imbalance. I also ran the calculations based on body temperature and amount of rigor. All calculations gave 31-35 hours for the postmortem interval."

That TOD stated that the girl died around the same time as Carl Clark...similar murders and yet not. She waved him into her office to find the file on her desk that she though she had been looking at earlier. She sat behind her desk and scanned the report she created the day before. Then looked at Dr. Costas who sat on the other side of the desk in silence, "Tell me what you found?"

"Female, early twenties, Middle Eastern descent. Perforating GSW, close-contact entrance wound between her eyes causing damage to the Frontal and Nasal bones. The wound track angled upwards and exited through the Parietal bone. Left index finger was removed postmortem. With the markings on the bone, it looks like it was created by a small circular saw...similar to the bone saws we use during autopsies. Her wrists and ankles were bound with plastic flex cuffs long enough that there were abrasions on her wrists. And as you noticed, based on calculations, TOD was around 9pm Wednesday night to 1am Thursday morning. There were a couple foreign hairs on her clothing that were delivered to the forensic lab marked high priority."

"You read the report on Mr. Clark?"

"Yes."

"What's your interpretation?" Maura was wondering what the other pathologist thought.

"Let's just say I'm glad I'm not the detectives on this one...we wrote up the cause of death, and I already have a headache over the ideas on why and by whom."

Dr. Isles couldn't help but agreeing as she pulled the report of the female's autopsy back toward her, "Please check the times again...I'll do the same with Mr. Clark's report." She knew Dr. Costas' work so she knew that the numbers would more than likely come out the same, before he could say something to that affect she added, "If we point out how thoroughly the calculations were double and triple checked, then a defense attorney can't rip the testimony to shreds...at least on that piece of evidence." She grabbed the two similar files and walked out of her office not even giving the ME still sitting at her desk a second glance. She was too busy trying to think about what she was going to tell the detectives.

It was complex cases like this one...these two...that had her pining for the less complicated days when she was not the Chief Medical Examiner. If she was not the CME, she could stay in the autopsy suite, just giving the dead a voice through the reports that she compiled. Now she was stuck delivering a report she didn't even complete to the initial detectives on the case. She preferred clear-cut answers, black and white, right and wrong; Jane on the other hand would have loved trying to solve this puzzle, and was probably going to be really annoyed to learn that she was missing out on, at least to her, an interesting case.

Maura started walking toward Frost's and Korsak's desks, and only saw the older man. She watched as he searched the stacks of folders and papers on his desk. It was hilarious to watch as he just kept moving one pile to another part of his cluttered desk. It was even funnier when she overheard Vince mumble, "...can't wait for Jane on Monday. Will make sure she doesn't become bored." Maura knew that Jane would not put up with playing secretary for very long, no matter how much she wished to be back at work.

Korsak found the folder he was looking for. Somehow, even though the file was only started yesterday, it ended up near the bottom of the large stack of papers. He grabbed the folder, stood up, and motioned for Dr. Isles to join him in a nearby conference room. "Frost is getting us coffee and then is going to join us for this interesting pow-wow."

"I'm assuming you mean more like a gathering with feasting, socializing, and trading, rather than a pauwau which some Native American's in this northeastern area knew originally to be a man who could heal or deliver advice from the spirit world...Even though with the odd case so far and not much forensic evidence, maybe you think we need help interpreting what we have."

"Well, if Frost remembers to grab some donuts or something, there will be feasting along with the talking and trading ideas part...And why would we need someone else to give advice from the dead...that is your department. So are you our resident female pow-wow?"

Maura was glad that they finished that conversation in the conference room, else the sticklers for political correctness would probably be very annoyed with Vince's odd interpretation of the words. Even more so when he added, "...but no dancing. I'd probably fall on my ass."

Frost with his impeccable timing entered then and jumped into the fray even though he had no real clue what the original conversation was about. "At least there is plenty of padding." He just smirked past Maura to his current partner.

"Be glad Doc here is in the middle, and you have the drinks, else I'd dump you on yours...and with no padding, it would hurt."

"Try old man."

Them were fighting words! And Maura really was not thrilled with being in the middle, so she grabbed the drink holder out of Frost's hands, the bag off his wrist, which from the aroma contained cinnamon rolls, and rounded to the other side of the conference table so the two male children could duke it out if they so pleased. After taking a seat, Maura went to savor her specialty coffee, but found that it tasted even worse than the office coffee...on a bad day. It must have been made incorrectly, or she got someone else's coffee, but at least she had the sweet treat to help take the bitter taste out of her mouth.

With the movement of the food, the two detectives lost interest in their squabble, and sat down to reach across the table for the icing covered rolls, and the steaming paper cups. Breakfast was no where near being balanced, and the combination of sugar and caffeine would give them fuel until they crashed in a couple hours, but hopefully they would be closer to answers by then.

They decided to look at the information from yesterday, and then segue into the newer case. All three opened various folders in front of them: Maura with the autopsy report, Frost with the various statements throughout the day, and Korsak with the crime scene report, and the logged evidence of which there was little. The statements included the witness statement, boyfriend's statement, bicycle officer's statement as he was the first on scene yesterday, and even a 'not sorry he died, but I didn't do it' statement from Mr. Thomas. Somehow those words, evidence, and the pictures and data from an autopsy were supposed to help point to a killer...but so far there had been no eureka moments. The clarity of the situation was now muddied with additional information.

Frost started reading from the notes the detective that morning wrote up. "A dog walker, very early this morning, found what at first he thought was just a pile of clothing near the Boston Common Frog Pond. He went over to check them out when his dog kept barking and wouldn't leave no matter how hard he pulled on the leash. He reached down to pull the sheet back a little. He told the police on scene that he assumed it was going to be someone homeless finding an interesting place to sleep for the night, but he was not expecting to open the sheets and see a body with a GSW between the eyes. He had a cell phone and so was able to call it in. We have the recording already..." And Frost pushed play on the sound file he had saved on his personal laptop.

* * *

"911, what is your emergency?" A clipped female voice asked.

"Um, yeah...aw, shit...I found a dead girl..."

"Are you sure she deceased? Can you find a pulse?"

"Assuming not...since she has a Hole In Her HEAD!" The voice continued to get louder as the horrors of the situation slammed into him. "Oh, God. What if the killer is still around?"

She could just imagine him turning around in circles looking for someone who was probably long gone. "Stay calm, sir. What's you name?" Names were easy to say and so usually helped calm down callers. Plus the name would be needed for the records.

"Benjamin...Benjamin Fowler."

"Okay, Benjamin. Do you know where you are? So I can send police out to your area."

"By the Boston Common...pond...the ice skatin' one." He knew it had another name, some animal, but he couldn't think very clearly right that moment.

"The Frog Pond?" With his affirmative grunt followed by a quiet 'yeah,' the dispatcher relayed the information over to the proper authorities. She then calmly told the caller, "The police and medical personnel are on their way. Please stay on the line until they get there."

The guy wanted to ask why she was sending medical help as he already mentioned the female had croaked. He couldn't help the stressed laughter that bubbled out as he thought of someone croaking by the Frog Pond. Before too long, sirens could be heard, and the pulsing blue lights on the police cruisers lit up the predawn darkness. "Um, they are here now." He said over the still open phone line.

The dispatcher double checked with the cruisers to make sure that they could see the caller. "Thanks, Benjamin, you can hang up now." She had been on the line of some very interesting calls, and even too many horror, gut-clenching ones as she hoped police would be able to intervene before she heard someone being injured, or worse killed. This one would definitely go down in the mixed pile.

* * *

Korsak spoke up a few minutes after the call log ended. "So the female vic was covered, while the male vic was not...He felt remorse for killing the girl? Or he wanted to make sure she was hidden from view as he dumped her, because the pond has a lot less cover than a dark alley?"

"Maybe he wanted the girl hidden where she might be found quicker?" Frost wondered out loud.

Maura knew she needed to finally give the piece of information that she learned coming into work. "If that was the case, he wouldn't have waited a whole day to dump her." At the odd looks from the detectives she went on, "both victim's time of death overlap."

"He killed them at the same time?" Korsak wasn't looking for an answer, but was just seeing if saying it out loud would make it make more sense. It didn't.

"I've had bodies come into the morgue before who were killed at the same time by the same killer, but the autopsies found that the manner of death, and the weapons used were the same. But here we have two different guns. The caliber of the gun that would have caused the wound in the female's head was smaller than that for the male. The type of implements used to sever the fingers were different – one a serrated knife, and the other a small circular saw. They were even bound differently. Not to mention the location of the wounds were not the same."

"Maybe he was trying to throw us off...thinking if the body was found on a different day with slightly different wounds that the connection wouldn't be made," Frost said.

"But then why cut off the fingers? Sadly gunshot deaths happen all too often so a connection might not be made...but both missing a finger, that is just screaming 'Look at me.'" Korsak decided to help his confusing thought by turning his attention from the murders to the gooey cinnamon roll in front of him.

"Maybe the finger was cut off as a torture method?" Frost threw the idea out there.

"I've had true torture victims on my table before. The damage to their entire bodies was much more extensive than I've seen in either victim the last two days. Plus the finger was removed postmortem on the female."

"Killed at similar times, so killed at the same location...maybe the torture for the other person was seeing someone they knew getting shot?" Korsak said and then licked the icing off his fingers.

Maura thought that that view of Korsak was torture. She didn't say anything, but she did throw over one of the napkins from a stack that Frost brought. She tried not to roll her eyes as Korsak took the napkin and only wiped up the droplets of coffee he got on the table when he stirred the sugar and creamer into his coffee.

As Frost interviewed the boyfriend of the male victim, he didn't see the logic in the idea of torture that Vince mentioned. "The first victim was gay. I doubt he was in a relationship with the girl..."

Korsak added, "He could have been bi."

"Even if he was, he was actively out of the closet. If someone wanted to torture him with seeing a loved one die, it would have been smarter to have used his live-in boyfriend that I interviewed yesterday...And we don't know enough on the second victim to speculate."

"There is still always the hate crime angle." Korsak hoped not, but knew it was a possibility they needed to keep in mind. "One vic is homosexual, and the other is Middle Eastern, and I would say Muslim based on the headscarf she wore..."

"Hijab," Maura informed in case either detective wanted to know.

Korsak flipped through the small file that they had on the female victim. "Frost, can you go check out the evidence? It says here that there was a wallet on the vic, but nothing is mentioned about what was in the wallet. Maybe we can get lucky." As Frost left the conference room, Korsak grabbed another cinnamon roll to pass the time while his partner was gone.

Frost came back into the conference room, waving the paper with the name on it like it was a flag for peace. He hurried over to his laptop to see what he could come up with from the name he got off of the Suffolk University ID.

When Frost came back with the name Saleemah al-Sharif, Maura wanted to cry at the irony. She knew the Muslim name meant many things including 'safe from harm.' She wished the college student could have lived up to that meaning...or at least still lived. She gave the pair of detectives a pinched smile as she stood up and grabbed her files and coffee, "Call me if you find anything, or need any information from the morgue. I need to get back down there before everything goes to pieces." She knew her colleagues would be fine on their own in her domain, but she wasn't sure how she would be if she stayed in here thinking of who the person was before they ended up on her table...the life ended before it really started. She needed a bit of fresh air.

Frost just nodded that he heard even though his eyes did not leave whatever he was learning from his computer search.

Maura felt it when Korsak reached across the table and gave her hand a quick squeeze. Not wanting to deal with emotions for awhile, even the pleasant ones like the gratitude she felt for Vince's strength, she grabbed up a napkin for the stickiness now on her hand and turned to leave.

Anyone else might have been offended by the seeming snub, but Korsak was starting to understand the woman in front of him a little better. He got another napkin for himself and finally wiped off his sticky fingers as he watched Maura walk out of the room with her back straight and shoulders squared. He wondered how she could walk so well that way when it often seemed like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders.

* * *

From the college website, Frost found a small article from a few months back on Saleemah. It mentioned that she was an international student just starting graduate school. She followed her cousin to the school. With the strong family ties that she had with her family, not only did she pick a school to be close to family in the United States, she was working on a Masters in Computer Science. She wanted to be able to not only help support her family with the money a good job could bring, but also go back home to Kyrgyzstan and use what she learned to make the place better for her people.

Knowing that she had a cousin, Frost called the school and asked for the name and contact information for Saleemah's family, both locally and back home. The secretary did not want to give the information, but finally relented about the name and number of the local cousin as it was listed in the school phone directory if Barry would have known the name. The cousin, Aazim, was contacted and promised he would be in to talk with the detectives as soon as he could get there.

Korsak soon left to go to the Boston Common Frog Pond. With the light now out, and having the basics from the initial reports he had read, he wanted to see if there was anything additional that might grab his attention at the latest dump site.

Frost could tell who the man was who came into the bullpen an hour later. He looked so lost and worried about what he might learn. And with Korsak out of the office, it landed on Frost's shoulders to once again interview the victim's family...it never got easier.

A fellow detective pointed out Frost to Aazim when he mentioned being expected. He walked toward a man with skin even darker than his own. "Detective Frost? We spoke on the phone earlier."

Frost stuck out a hand to shake Aazim's. He could hear a touch of an accent to his ears, but it wasn't so pronounced that he had any difficulties understanding what the man said. He noticed the cousin was dressed in business casual, pressed black slacks and a light blue polo shirt, as he came straight from the part-time job he had in order to help pay for living expenses. His hair was slightly messy, and Frost wondered if that might be more from him running his fingers through his hair which was a common action when stressed, rather than the other alternative, that he never brushed his hair. The two men shook hands briefly, and then the detective led them to the same interview room he was in less than twenty-four hours ago...for the privacy, but also so he could record the conversation to make sure he and Korsak could go over the tapes for any guilty tells the grieving family and friends might give off.

Earlier Dr. Isles gave the detectives a picture of the dead woman's face. She didn't think the family would handle viewing the body too well at the moment. There was no way to get a positive identification without showing the entire face, including the gunshot wound. But even though the picture showed the means of her death, it also helped dull the pain to the family...just as the colors in the picture seemed duller. The reddish-brown, and black around the entrance wound weren't as bright; the blank gaze in the brown eyes wasn't as piercing.

Frost pulled the picture out of the manila folder he had with him, but he didn't turn it over right away. "I need you to look at a picture and let me know if it is your cousin. You ready?" Was anyone ever ready to possibly look at their loved ones dead, especially in such a horrific manner?

Aazim gave a nod. Staring down at the white back of the photo. Hoping that the image would not be of his younger cousin, but dreading that it was. He continued staring at the picture as it was turned over. The image slowly burned it's way into his memory, and it was a few moments before he remembered he needed to give the detective an answer. "Yes, that's her. That's Saleemah."

Frost put the picture away. "That's a beautiful name," he said, hoping the cousin would remember the beautiful things about his cousin rather than the ugliness from the image...the ugliness from a person who could do that to another.

Aazim gave a small smile as he remembered some of the stories he had heard about his cousin. "She was her parents' pride and joy. My aunt was told she was barren a few years into her marriage. She felt shamed for awhile, but then she learned she was pregnant. It was a rough pregnancy for her, and for some time the doctors didn't know if either mother or child would survive, but finally Saleemah was born...healthy and perfect, hence her name."

Keeping the conversation light for a few moments, Frost threw out a few conversation starters: names, Aazim's major, Frost's love of computers. Which flowed well into talk about Saleemah as it related to her schooling.

"Saleemah loved studying computer science. I would never tell her, but she is smarter than I am...I should have told her, at least once." A deep frown cut through Aazim's face.

"She was getting her Masters degree, correct? She must have studied a lot."

"It seemed like whenever she was awake there was always a book in her hand. That is how I knew something happened to her, as she didn't meet me in the library like we always did after classes yesterday. Then I learned from her roommate that she wasn't at her place the night before. None of her Thursday professors saw her in class...and she always goes and sits in the front, so it's not like they would miss her. I talked to campus police, and even called Boston police to see if I could report her missing, but they said she wasn't gone long enough to be labeled as missing. I even started calling emergency rooms...I didn't want her to be hurt, but at least then I would know where she was...She'd at least have a chance to still be alive now." He turned questioning eyes on the detective. "How can someone not be missing long enough if they could be hurt in that amount of time? Maybe I could have done something...maybe _someone_ could have done something."

Frost wished he had answers for the cousin, but the hard questions that death brought up never gave away answers easily, if at all. "Do you know of anyone who might have done this to your cousin? Did she have any enemies?...Or a boyfriend?" More questions, but hopefully these had answers.

"I believe that she had a boyfriend, but I don't know his name. Saleemah said that the family wouldn't approve of him, so she was going to break up with him. I don't know anything more than that...Her roommate might though. They had been friends since junior year of undergrad. They shared a lot."

Frost wrote down the name of the roommate so she could be contacted and questioned later.

"Her parents need to know," Aazim said quietly. He pulled out his cell phone which had their contact information, but he paused not knowing how to break the devastating news to his aunt and uncle. It was the middle of the night where they lived, but he knew they would want to know sooner rather than later...not that they would really want to _know_ that information.

Detective Frost was used to going to family members' homes, or having them come into headquarters. It was a rare occasion that he needed to inform someone of a homicide over the phone. On one hand it was easier, because he couldn't see the pained emotions chiseled on the faces of loved ones; but it was also harder, as he couldn't reach out a hand or arm to offer them some sort of comfort. He asked Aazim to pass over the cell after he pushed the send button. When someone sleepily answered on the other end, Frost said, "Hello. Is this Saleemah al-Sharif's father?"

"You called me...and from my nephew's phone...where is Aazim." The accent from the deep male voice was stronger than that of Aazim's.

"He is right beside me...and I'm Detective Barry Frost in the Boston Police Department...I regret to inform you that your daughter was killed two days ago. We are doing everything in our power to catch the killer." There was a short pause, and then a response. Frost was expecting crying or doubt, but he was not expecting what he got.

"This is NOT a funny idea for a prank! Where...Is...My...NEPHEW."

No one thirty feet away could have missed the yelling over the cell phone, and Aazim was much closer. He grabbed the cell phone to help explain the truth of the situation. "It's true, Uncle. I saw her picture...It was her, it was Saleemah."

Now it was Frost hearing yelling from the phone across the table. He wasn't sure if it was Saleemah's father yelling for his wife, or if he was cursing. This was one of the few times that Frost was thinking it was a good thing that he was telling someone over the phone rather than across the table that their loved one had died. If the anger heard in the father's voice was anything to go by, he would definitely be one of those dangerous animals who Jane would say Frost was going to try and tame.

* * *

At the end of the day, the group was no closer to answers, even though they went home with more questions because of the second body. Arrangements had already been made to transport the bodies to their final resting places. Mr. Tucker had his boyfriend sent over to a local funeral home; he was removed from the morgue while Dr. Isles was in conference with the detectives so she did not know which one he was sent to. Saleemah's father must have known some people in high places, because the next thing the morgue knew, they were getting the forms so that the body could be released as soon as possible for aerial transport. She was scheduled to return home in a few days, but it was not the homecoming that her parents had wished for.

The two detectives took notes, crime scene photos, and copies of the autopsy reports home with them. They had the weekend off, but they both knew they would pour over the information that night, while they ate whatever they would get for dinner, and would probably be back bright and early so they could bounce ideas back and forth in their odd version of mental ping-pong.

Dr. Isles would usually be as dedicated to her work, but she had already set up plans with Jane. As long as no new bodies with a similar manner of death were found in the Boston area, Maura was going to spend the weekend solely as Jane's friend rather than Medical Examiner. She hoped she wouldn't get a call, but she didn't think that was going to be the case as she knew that once a killer had more than one killing to their name then there were bound to be more that came through her morgue. Jane would have been proud if Maura mentioned the fear that clutched at her gut. Jane always did go with gut feelings...Maura just never knew they felt so awful.

* * *

AN: Getting reviews to 100 would be an awesome b-day gift...granted at least Doctor Who coming back will do if not :D ...Speaking of birthdays, does anyone know if the books mentioned Frost's b-day...I wrote what he should get for presents, but not for sure if there is a day set, or if I can play pin the birthday on the calendar...If so I'm thinking St. Patty's day as he so doesn't look Irish, but he has the green part down pat :D


	27. Chapter 27

DISCLAIMER: I do not own this show, the books, or these characters. I only borrow them.

**In Remembrance: 9/11/2001**

**Chapter 27**

Maura pulled up to the home of Angela and Frank Rizzoli, and before she even had time to turn off the car and step out, the front door opened. Maura hurried up to the porch in order to grab the duffel bag out of Jane's hand as she was already starting to descend the few steps. Angela was following her daughter with a medium sized roller suitcase and a book bag.

Jane saw Maura's questioning gaze on the multiple bags and said, "Blame Ma," as they continued on to the car.

"Janie!" Angela turned to Maura. "Ignore her. First she wanted her clothing at the hospital. Then she wanted something to read because she was bored, not to mention all the medicine and bandages that take up lots of space. But NO! It's all my fault because I went to get the items she wanted and needed."

"Why don't you leave the clothes here Jane? You stop over enough that it would work."

"I did. These are what wouldn't fit in my closet and dresser."

Both Maura and Angela couldn't help snickering. Maura said, "And she complains that I have too many clothes."

"My closet isn't the size of my entire bedroom."

"And even if it was, most of the space would still be taken up with her sports equipment," Angela joked as she put the bags she had in the trunk and closed it. She turned a caring gaze toward her daughter and gave her a quick hug. "I'll see you tomorrow afternoon."

"I know Ma," Jane rolled her eyes, "you've only told me a thousand times."

Angela was already half way back to the front door, but she turned back and shouted back, "Don't take that tone with me, young lady." She turned back and smiled as she entered her house. Both happy and sorrowful that the residence belonged once again to just her and Frank.

Maura thought the sarcastic bickering was endearing. She wished she and her mother would have been close enough to tease each other rather than just the proper interactions they always had. "What was that about?"

"Ma swears that my apartment is going to be condemned as it hasn't been cleaned in the last five weeks. That or the dust bunnies are going to take over." Jane was walking toward the passenger door and so she missed seeing the blush creep up Maura's cheeks. "Ma thought she would stock the apartment with groceries too, and then we are having our usual family dinner at my newly renovated place...I think she is either worried that I wouldn't clean and would starve, or, worse, that I would clean and try to carry heavy groceries and lift too much." She couldn't help groaning over her mother's hovering even when she tried to leave the nest again.

"That's probably a good idea." At the glare from Jane, over the hood of the car, Maura added, "You wouldn't want to be injured and then take longer to get back to work full time. Would you?"

Jane hated that Maura knew her so well at times. She had her hand on the door handle and was about to open it and get in when a small, tan, furry head peeked over the bottom of the window. Her annoyance at the earlier situation dissipated, and she couldn't help but laugh at her small dog. "Maura, you are going to have to pry Jo away from the door, or she is going to tumble out when I open this door."

Maura did as instructed, but, rather than putting Jo in the backseat, Jane watched as she held onto the wiggling mass of fur until she was seated and with her seat belt fastened. Maura then dropped the giddy dog in Jane's lap. "I tried to have her sit in the back as it's safer, but she wouldn't stop whining until I put her on _your_ seat. And I know if she was in the back while you're up here, since she hasn't seen you for awhile, it would be even worse. She really missed you." Seeing the dog standing on her back paws while balancing in Jane's lap, front paws on Jane's chest, and trying to slobber all over her owner's face even though she could only reach the chin, was an amusing sight that backed up Maura's theory.

"Be glad you are tiny, Jo. Else I would toss you in the back for putting weight on my chest."

Maura wanted to ask Jane if she was still in a lot of pain, but she knew she would never get a truthful answer, especially if the answer should have been yes. She knew her friend wanted to get back to work too much to let a little pain get in her way. Jane wanted to get back to normal as soon as possible. Maura just hoped she wasn't doing it as she herself often did, to forget for a little while the emotional pain from the shooting a month ago. Maura knew that didn't work out as well as one might hope. When one forgot so much that remembering at the end of the day that Frankie wasn't out on a call or just in another department and would stop in to say hello when he had a chance, hurt all the more.

"So what's up with the mutt? I thought we were going to your place for the night as we were picking her up."

"The detectives and I have been working on an odd case...I have a feeling it's not over, so your place is in town, and since we we're going to end up there anyway, I thought it would be better to be closer." She didn't add that being closer also meant she could get to sleep quicker as this long case was taking its toll.

Jane didn't ask about the case. She didn't have to, as her questioning gaze asked it for her. That look always got more answers than verbally asking anyways.

"So far we have had two victims. A twenty-something female and a 31 year old male. Both shot in the head, with a missing finger. Frost and Korsak are looking at a hate crime angle as not much to go on yet. The odd part though is that they were killed at the same time, but dumped on different days." Maura knew that there was no way a body would have been missed for a full day if it was laying by the Boston Common Frog Pond as a lot of people walked by there each day. "Frost and Korsak mentioned they were going to be in the office today working the case so they might need to call for information, and there is always the probability of more bodies. Once someone has more than one killing to their name as you well know...so your place it is."

"Too true about the more victims comment. It's not over til the fat lady sings, huh...assuming she's not one of the victims."

"Jane!"

After a minute to ponder, Jane asked, "Can we stop in at headquarters and say hi to the guys? I haven't seen them in soooo long."

Maura knew Jane wanted to see what was going on with the case. She would barely glance at her partners before she would dive into the witness statements and crime scene photos. "You will be in Monday and can see them then."

"We could go so you could pick up your notes in case the guys need to call you." Seeing Maura glaring over, she tried a different route, "Drop off a suggestion," the withering glare got darker, "Um...take a bathroom break. You know I really gotta pee."

"It's a good thing your house isn't too far. She pointed to her car's GPS even though she didn't have it on as she knew the way to Jane's apartment very well by now. "You're even in luck, it's closer than headquarters." Now the death glare was on Jane's face and Maura just gave an annoying Cheshire Cat grin.

"It's so not fair. I'm missing a serial!" Jane sounded very peeved.

"Jane, don't sound so happy about serial cases, or so annoyed that you are missing one...that means that we've already had multiple deaths and no clue if or when we will get more."

Jane could tell that it was really getting to Maura based on the tone of voice and so decided to let the topic drop. They finished the ride in silence.

When they arrived at the apartment, Jane noticed Maura start toward the trunk and said, "I really just need the duffle bag in tonight. Ma packed it like she used to our diaper bags: change of clothes, something to entertain us...I think she shoved in yesterday's newspaper; I just hope Pop was finished with it, there is probably also MREs or granola bars or something, and a bottle of water, or five...you know, for in case we get lost and stranded...in my living room. The only difference is that instead of diapers and baby wipes I now have bandages and medication."

Maura chuckled at the comment while also wondering briefly if her mother would have even known what a diaper bag was or what should go in one. She was glad that they only needed her overnight bag and the duffle bag to go in tonight; that way she could get both and the big bag of dog food she brought to make sure Jo would have dinner too. She let Jane carry in her hyper dog so they could make it up the stairs in one trip.

Jane opened the door and set the dog down. She thought it was amusing to watch as Jo wandered around her domain sniffing everything as she went, reminding herself of home.

Maura almost tripped over the frantic dog as she took the bags back into Jane's bedroom. She could hear Jane in the living room calling out for pizza. When she walked back into the living room and saw Jane without the cellphone, she asked the question even though she already knew the answer, "Pizza?" It was not her meal of choice.

"Yes. I really need a pizza..."

"Want," Maura added even though Jane was still talking, and if she did hear, decided to ignore the comment on her word choice.

"Ma thinks if you want pizza, any Italian meal will satisfy that craving. So we don't do pizza often. The only pizza I've had since I got out of the hospital was after we cleaned Frankie's place last weekend. It just made me want it all the more."

"There have been studies about what your body is lacking when you have certain cravings. For oily, fatty foods, your body needs calcium." -book by Dr Colleen Huber, choose your food like your life depends on them – the chemistry of man.

"Well, it's a good thing I ordered extra cheese then," Jane said with a grin.

Knowing the 'what's for dinner?' question had been taken care of, Maura decided to work on the 'where are we eating?' part as she started cleaning off the small table near the kitchen. She knew Jane would have been fine eating out of the box while sitting on the couch, but Maura had still not been dragged down to that level of 'Jane' yet.

Knowing Maura preferred to eat at the table, Jane didn't say anything when she watched her tidying the space up, but, when she went over to start on the counter, Jane said, "You might as well leave it. Ma will just reclean everything anyway."

After seeing Angela working in Frankie's apartment, she knew that truth behind those words, and so she went over to the couch to join Jane.

Jane was flipping through the channels to see if there was anything on she would want to watch. Not finding anything, see turned the station to the history channel, knowing that Maura liked it, and stood up. She started walking toward her bedroom to grab a change of clothes. "I think I'm going to go get a shower..."

"Remember to make it a quick one, and no harsh scrubbing," Maura couldn't help adding the warnings that she knew Jane would have been given by her surgeon. "Let me know when you are finished. I'd like to see how you are healing, and then I can reapply your bandages."

Jane came back in with an arm full of clothes and a towel, "Speaking of that, can you remove the ones on my back. It still hurts to twist enough to pull them off myself."

Maura lifted up the back of Jane's shirt and unclasped her bra so she could pull off the bandages on Jane's left shoulder. She tried to be gentle as she peeled off the tape, but she could still hear Jane gasp in pain a few times. "Sorry." She was glad to be finished as she was sadly starting to understand the concept of causing a friend's pain hurt her more. First all the stuff she missed out with Frankie, and now with causing physical pain to Jane.

"No problem. More than anything it itches like a bitch."

"Fleas or mange?"

Jane turned around to stare dumbly at her odd friend. "What!"

"Why a female dog's skin would be itchy... Is it more like pinpricks and bites like fleas, or like an all over rash and mange?"

"Oww, damn it, it still hurts to laugh." Despite that though, it still took a good minute for her to get her breathing back under control so she wasn't pulling at healing skin. "And is that a new tool the docs use: pain 1-10 and stabbing or shooting, and now itchy: fleas or mange."

"Well?"

"Fine, I'll go more with fleas...and can we please stop talking about itching? It makes it worse." And with that, Jane walked into the bathroom, scratching lightly at the bandages still on her stomach as she went.

Fifteen minutes later, Maura heard the water from the shower turn off, and so she grabbed the tape and bandages and asked to join Jane in the tiny bathroom. She had Jane sit on the closed toilet side and turn so that she could easily bandage up the shoulder first. She teased, "Don't worry. I'm a doctor, I can do this."

"Who works with dead people," Jane joked back.

Maura hoped she kept the smile in place as she half-heartedly tried to continue the joking, "Yes, but I started in a hospital setting with...," she paused for a staged gasp, "Live people." While trying not to think that the last live person she worked on other than Jane had been Frankie.

Jane let Maura start on the bandages on her back with her light blue towel grasped tightly in front of her to cover up as much as possible.

Maura was pleased to see the pinking up of the skin around the sutures. The wounds were healing nicely on the outside, and she noticed over the last week that Jane's range of movement and endurance was improving well too. For a second she wondered about the emotional scars of the shooting, as she knew she herself had quiet a few that were still raw and oozing, but they both did better sliding into the normal banter rather then the touchy-feely. Maura asked Jane to turn around so she could apply bandages on Jane's anterior wounds.

"I can get the ones in front. Can I get a little privacy...please?" she added when Maura didn't move toward the bedroom door.

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about. I have my own, you know." Maura chuckled as the blush on Jane's face deepened.

"Yes, I know, and that you are a doctor so have seen it all, but come on."

"I want to see how the healing is coming along. It looked pretty good on your posterior..."

"On my WHAT?"

"Posterior denotes anything toward your back, not just your buttocks. Whoever destroyed the meaning of that word for all mankind should be... pummeled." luckily she caught it before she said they should be shot.

Jane was still too shocked thinking about the posterior bit that she almost missed Maura threatening bodily harm to someone. It was a bit odd to say the least. She glanced toward the wall as she let Maura change the bandages on her chest and abdomen.

Maura thought about joking about people fooling themselves into thinking, _If I can't see you, you can't see me either._" Granted, she remembered a childhood development class she took in undergrad mention that it worked well in playing peekaboo with infants as their brain still thought that way. But she put on her doctor's hat and worked quickly and efficiently in changing the numerous bandages. "I'd leave the bra off when your finished." She had noticed the sutures in the front close to where the bra straps would be positioned were not healing as well. "The healing skin is weaker, so you wouldn't want to aggravate it more than necessary." At the look of horror on Jane's face she added, "I can take mine off too if it makes you feel better." She couldn't help the slight chuckle that escaped at that seemingly random suggestion.

"Ah, no, thanks," Jane now more embarrassed by Maura's state of dress or not of her own.

"Well, good."

"That's not fair being so happy about it."

"I achieved my goal. You were then too embarrassed about me to worry about what you felt uncomfortable with."

"Did you learn that in one of the classes at your fancy college?"

"Yes..." Maura let the answer hang in the air until the questioning glare from Rizzoli finally wore her down as it did most of her perps at work. "I learned that technique to deal with people...you know, live ones."

Jane just laughed, "So, who have you used it on at work?"

"Everyone."

"Even me?"

"Especially you."

"How come?" Jane asked leaning forward and not realizing that she was getting in Maura's space.

"Because you're...well..."

"What!"

"That..." Maura gesticulated madly trying to help with her point. "...in people's faces, assertive, very larger than life presence, and well it's... intimidating." As silence overtook the tiny room, Maura wondered if she might have said something to hurt her friend's feelings. She knew Jane might pretend to be all tough-as-nails, but she still felt stuff strongly.

"Oh,... thanks." Jane liked being that way so wouldn't change it and didn't see it as a bad thing.

Not knowing what to say to that reply, Maura just stood quiet.

Sadly Jane didn't even think about commenting on the 'shocked into silence' joke she normally would have jumped at, because, at the moment, she wanted to finish up in the restroom and get dressed. "I think I got it from here, thanks." She thought it was amusing to then see Maura blushing as she hurried out of the room.

While Jane was finishing up, the pizza came, and so Maura paid and gave the acne covered teenage boy a decent tip. She then carried the greasy box over to the counter and got out two plates and cups and silverware for herself even though Jane still joked about her eating her pizza with a knife and fork.

Jane came out of the bathroom and saw the box. "I was going to treat." She knew better than to even try to hand Maura the money as she wouldn't take it now.

"You can treat next time...when it's something I'd enjoy being treated too."

"I can't afford what you like." Jane said as she put ice in the glasses and opened up the now very flat two-liter of coke that she had in her fridge. As she poured her drink, she realized that she should have had a new one delivered. She would have preferred one of her beers in the fridge, but she knew there was no way Dr. Isles would let her get away with having alcohol yet.

"You know what I mean, Jane...Chinese, Thai, most anything outside of this grease in a box pizza." Seeing how flat the pop was, Maura decided to go with water.

"Well, if that is the case, I know a park with a mean hotdog stand." Jane laughed as Maura made it too easy, and the disgusted look on her face was so worth it.

They ate over talk of work intermixed with random jokes and funny stories that the guys had been in that Jane had missed out on. All too soon, the medium works pizza was polished off. More due to Jane than Maura, but it made clean up easy. Maura rinsed the dishes off and placed them in the dishwasher while Jane took the grease soaked box over to the trashcan and then wiped down the table.

Jane could see that Maura looked tired during dinner, so she didn't even suggest that they watch a movie, or a ball game like she would have preferred. Instead she said she was tired knowing that otherwise Maura would question the lack of visual entertainment that usually ended up their sleepovers.

"I'm going to check out the news real quick," Jane said as she delicately plopped down on the couch. She was already dressed in what she was going to sleep in: comfortable lightweight grey jogging slacks and the green t-shirt that she put on after her shower.

"Don't you get enough of those negative stories at work, Jane?"

"Usually, but I haven't been at work, so I've been living vicariously through the news."

Maura just shook her head and went to get a nice, long, warm shower, before she got dressed in her favorite beige silk pajamas.

When the news ended thirty minutes after Maura left, Jane could hear her shuffling around in the bedroom. She clicked off the television and walked into the apartment's only sleeping area, other than the couch that her brother had used on occasion when he needed to crash for the night. When she walked in the door, she saw Maura toss over a small jar. She had to lean farther than she would have liked but the jar looked glass so she wasn't about to let it hit the wall as she bet the yellow goop would not look pretty smearing it.

"Nice catch."

"Bad throw."

Maura was tempted to blame the lack of wind and horrible air resistance in the room, or how the jar was not aerodynamically sound, but she wanted Jane to remember the next part and not block it out with her 'google-speak' as Jane would call it. She hated that term as it wasn't very accurate. Most anything learned from google and wiki were not authenticated...peer reviewed journals were much better for facts. Maybe she should ask Jane to change the term to 'scholar-google-speak,' as it searched for journal articles and patents, but that was as far as she was willing to stretch that. "In about a week, start using that cream on the wounds to minimize scarring, even though your surgeon already helped out with that on how well he sutured you up"

_Great_, Jane thought, _like a patchwork quilt, or not...they at least looked prettier. _"What is it?" She opened the jar and took a wiff.

"Butyrospermum parkii."

She read the label as Maura said that so saw the spelling. "WHAT!" Jane was about to stick a finger in the jar but pulled back...Maura was just lucky she didn't drop it on the floor "I can't use that...it has sperm in the middle of the name...I prefer to get mine from the source thanks"

Maura just laughed. "It's Shea Butter, Jane."

"Oh God, why can't you just say that?" Then she groaned, "My Ma has some lotion with that in it...thanks, now I'm going to start laughing every time I see her use it."

Maura couldn't help adding "Squirt bottle or pump?"

"Mauraaaa!" but it was too late, as two women who were laughing so hard they were crying plopped down on the bed.

When the laughter finally stopped, Maura thought that she was pretty lucky. She might have missed out as a kid with not having sleep-overs and friends, but Jane more than made up for it. And, for the first time in weeks, she was able to fall asleep without collapsing from exhaustion or crying over Frankie...yes, there were tears still in her eyes, but at least for a more pleasant cause.

* * *

AN: So sorry for the delay, between some med stuff, and mind not with the story too much, it was 'fun.' Will try my hardest to get back on the weekly updates, especially since I believe Monday is season finale and we will all still need out R&I fix.

Thanks soo much for the reviews...got to 100, yay. Love getting reviews from new readers so thanks, and an even bigger THANKS to those who review regularly. You make me want to push even when I'm not really in the story as I know you are out there waiting. :)


	28. Chapter 28

DISCLAIMER: I do not own this show, the books, or these characters. I only borrow them.

**Chapter 28**

The ringing of a cell phone woke her up, "Rizzoli...Rizzoli," she answered. However the phone continued to ring. Jane glanced over to Maura for two reasons: one – hoping she wasn't watching Jane make an ass of herself trying to answer a non-ringing phone, and two – wondering why Maura's phone was still ringing as she almost always picked up in under two rings...three at most. She saw Maura laying on her stomach, hugging the pillow she lay on...and not even twitching trying to wake up to answer her phone. So Jane reached over the ironically dead-to-the-world medical examiner and grabbed the cell phone. Noting the caller, she once again answered, "Rizzoli."

"Jane?..." The voice of Barry Frost came over Dr. Isles' cell. "I know it's early, but even I know which speed dial number belongs to whom."

"I'm assuming it's important enough to wake up the Doc. So what's up...other than us?"

"Well, let's see, Jane. I'm a homicide detective calling the chief medical examiner...that usually means there's a dead body."

Jane could hear the humor in the voice and knew her partner was smirking, "Smart ass."

"Yes, I am smart, and my ass is cute according to most women..." he said.

"Well, according to this women, your ass needs a swift kick. So, I repeat. What's up?"

"Not the Doc apparently." Hearing his partner now nearly growling over the phone, he knew he needed to get to the point. "Db, African-American male, late 40s, early 50s, gsw to the back of the head, and missing his left middle finger. I wouldn't be bugging her after the long week as she's not on-call if it wasn't for the case."

"Yea, she told me a little bit about what's been going on at work."

"So why do you have her phone?"

"Maura got me from my parents so I could get Jo and return home this weekend," she didn't bother to tell him that the plans changed slightly or that she was already home. "So I'm assuming you want Dr. Isles there as soon as possible, so it probably would be better not to detour so she could drop me and my bags off at my place..." Her bags _were_ still in Maura's trunk. "I promise I'll stay in the car. It's no big deal...took my Ma to a scene once for similar reasons..." .

"True, and then you complained for the rest of the week how she didn't stay in the car like you told her to. And you are worse than she is when you want to do something."

"Oh, come on, Frost. Would I disobey and go into a crime scene when I'm hoping to get back to work next week? I don't want to be reprimanded and benched any longer. Anyway, I can't help it that the plan was to stay with Maura and get Jo so she could drop me off at my apartment Sunday...well, it's Sunday."

"No one in their right mind would be driving a friend home at this hour if they could be comfortably in bed."

"...From a bar?" It was half statement, half question.

"They are all closed at four in the morning, Jane, and you aren't allowed to drink with your meds anyway." There was a long pause as his partner waited for an answer, "Okay...but only because we need the Doc ASAP, and it's already a long drive from her place."

"That it is." She swallowed a snicker at that fact as it was the very reason why they were already at Jane's place.

"Can you put the Doc on the phone so I can give her the basics and the location?"

Rather than saying sure, Jane just went over the other side of the bed. "Maura, the phone is for you." There were a few non-verbal grunts, and Jane could swear she heard a muffled "five more minutes" and a two-syllable mumble that Jane could only assume was a name...and definitely not her own. She knew that Maura had a boyfriend from the few times she tried to get together with her friend but was told she was going on a date but no additional information was passed between the two. They never talked about him, but then Jane didn't mention her on-again off-again, but mainly off-again, relationship with Special Agent Gabriel Dean of the FBI. Her thoughts were brought back to the present as a slight hand blindly reached out for the phone. She couldn't help but throwing out the barb, "Good morning to you too, Sleeping Beauty."

"Isles." Hearing only a quiet reply from Frost, she quickly turned the phone right side up before saying again, "Isles." Maura just glared at Jane as she walked away laughing hysterically to get something to change into. Maura sat up. Her sleep tousled honey brown hair falling in her face prevented her from aiming well as she threw the pillow she had before been hugging at Jane's retreating back.

"Still a bad throw," Jane said before blocking anymore shots with the closing bathroom door.

Frost told Maura what she needed to know about where the crime scene was and the same brief description of the victim that he gave moments ago to Jane. Maura soon knew she needed to head to South Boston warehouse district, near the northern intersection of Foodmart Road and Widett Circle. "I'll keep an eye out for all the lights. See you soon," and with that Dr. Isles hung up her phone and hurried to get ready.

When Maura grabbed up her purse and car keys, Jane joined her, dressed and with her own apartment keys. "Frost said I could go with as long as I promise to stay out of the way."

The 'you-can-trust-me' smile on Jane's face should have clued Maura in to the fact that something was off with the situation, but she still needed to learn that while she would pass out with an outright lie, most had lying down to an art form...especially Jane. But, at the time, between the early hour, and hearing the brief facts from Frost, so thinking about the current case and the two similar ones in the last few days, Maura just thought Frost said okay...so, okay.

Maura pulled her car close to the yellow tape that was blowing slightly in the breeze and that cordoned off this newest crime scene. She saw many nearby semi trucks being loaded, and so hoped that with the populated area, the body was a recent death rather than just another recent dump site for another body killed around the same time as the other two. The metal and concrete buildings seemed so stark in the dark, and she felt sorry for the man who now rested within their bleak walls.

Frost was walking the perimeter checking for any clues about the murder scene inside when he saw Maura's black Lexus pull up. He walked over to the vehicle, and, still seeing the world through detective's eyes, he noted that Maura looked still slightly asleep on her feet. Her usually pristine appearance didn't seem as put together in the jeans and t-shirt that looked surprisingly like Jane's and with a hasty low ponytail gathering her hair near the nape of her neck. His eyes then moved over to his partner, who seemed to be relaxing in the passenger seat, taking in the breeze from the open window. He should have realized that image was not going to stay that way once he was out of view. "You got here quick," Frost commented, thinking about the distance from Maura's house to this crime scene.

"Actually, it was a little slow coming from Jane's apartment as there was an accident." She missed seeing the glare that Frost sent to Jane.

Jane just smiled back at her partner as she sat comfortably in the passenger seat until Frost left the area so that she could grill the rookie at the yellow barrier. When Maura started off in pursuit of the body, Jane said, "See...now she's going to have to take me back to my place. So technically what I told you was true."

Frost just shook his head and went to join the medical examiner.

* * *

Maura could tell right away that this location was finally the place of the actual murder rather than a dump site. The amount of blood around the man and splattered across the floor and nearest walls let her know that he was shot and killed here. She knelt down next to the body and also noted with her eyes and a quick feel of the stiffness or lack there of of the man, that he was already out of rigor, but was still in relatively good condition albeit the hole in his head. Without the actual lab tests, she could approximate that the time of death was going to be similar to the others. "Detective Frost, there is a good chance that this man was killed around the same time as the other two victims, so have your guys keep an eye out for any evidence that the others might have been killed here, too."

"Okay, Dr. Isles." He went over to talk to the other investigators while keeping his eyes open for any information that could be of use to this, or the other two cases, like additional bullet casings or blood spatter that would not correlate to where the current victim was positioned.

Frost was glad the location of the shooter could be approximated based on where the spent casing was on the floor. The height of the shooter could also be determined if it appeared from the location that he was standing and not in some other position. The bullet trajectory through the man's head was followed, and it appeared that the bullet finally came to rest nearby a now pierced bag of some type of grain. Someone was going to have fun sifting through the mess and checking the cement girders nearby.

Maura went back to eying the body where it lay. It looked more like torture and a hired kill. The body was again tied. Silver duct tape once again bound his ankles together; his hands were likewise bound behind his back. He was facedown now, but Maura could just imagine him kneeling as he begged the person behind him to have mercy as there was no gag or tape around this victim's mouth that she could see. The implement used to remove the finger looked to have been very painful as the bones around the pinched off digit were crushed and there was a lot of blood down the back of the man's clothes to let them all know the horror the man went through before the kill shot to the back of the skull was delivered. From his positioning, she was able to note something else. "Detective Korsak,this man was hit with a stun gun." She pointed to the place on the victim's neck. "It's a classic Lewis Triple Response, with the red spots where he was subjected to the voltage from the stun gun. You can see the reddish flare around that, and the fluid-filled wheal."

Korsak nodded that he understood. He'd see enough stun gun wounds to note the similarity, even if he only understood part of what the Doc said.

Maura turned her attention back to the body and readied to help her death investigator roll the body to the side. Once she did, she was able to see that the kinetic energy of the bullet as it passed through the occipital bone shattering it, and then the brain matter, caused the exit wound to be larger than the entrance wound, and so his face was nearly literally blown off. The shot might have put him out of his physical pain, but now it would cause pain to other individuals when they finally found out who the victim was, and who his family was. She knew she would need to ask the family for his dental records as asking a loved one to identify him through his damaged face would be an added cruelty that she could not bare to subject them to.

Frost wandered back over near the body and found the man's wallet open to the his picture ID on a nearby cardboard box. He would have to check to see if another police officer left it there, or. more probable, the perpetrator. If the latter was the case, he would need to quickly find out if the victim had any family as the driver's license could be leading the killer to his next victim or victims. With the picture ID, Frost knew who was laying on the floor nearby with Korsak standing near his feet and Dr. Isles taking the body temperature. "His name is Douglas Phur, he's 52."

Korsak wanted to joke that the man was probably a nature lover with a name like that, but he was standing too close to the Doc with sharp implements, who was not a fan of humor around the dead...even if it was funny. His thoughts were brought back to the case with an angry expletive from Frost.

"Shit," Frost was now gazing at a picture of the man, a nice looking women around the same age, and two children. "It looks like he had a wife and children." The only thing Frost hated more than telling a spouse that their loved one was dead was telling children that their mother or father wasc never coming home because of some bad man. The kids in the picture both looked to be in their teens and so would understand what was going on...he wasn't sure if that was worse, or the younger ones who would still ask when daddy or mommy was coming home to make everything happy again.

"Maybe it's his sister and her kids." Korsak wished he could cheer either of them up, but they knew all too often that loved ones were ripped away from their families. He glanced over to Maura, or from their future families, he thought sadly.

The smell of the scene was an odd mix of stale urine, blood, slight decomp, and accumulated dust. Even being used to the sights and smells in her autopsy suite, the combination curled her stomach when she heard about Douglas' family. She again grieved, knowing the pain the wife was going to feel. Once again she was left pondering if letting Frankie get closer was a good thing or not – until him, nothing got in her way of being a good ME, not even her first husband. Even though she bet that both Frost and Korsak would have disagreed. Her emotions, even though she fought and wasn't sure of them made her more human...the heart of the Queen of the Dead had started to thaw and beat. But should she let it continue, or harden it again?

Frosts called out for a car to head over to the Phur residence. To make sure the family was safe and to inform them of the death of their family member. Frost also asked for them to bring the family into the station so that he could talk with the wife, but also to keep them safe until he could get a security detail set around her house for a few days. Even though the likelihood the perp would strike after all this time was low...he just hoped the man hadn't already struck.

Having the information that they could see with just their eyes, until they got the reports from the various labs, Frost and Korsak were getting ready to leave for headquarters, along with the Doc as the body was now in a black body bag on the gurney and being pushed out to the Medical Examiner's van. Maura turned to Frost, "Can you drive Jane back to her apartment so I can get on to the morgue?"

"Sure," Frost said, even though he was internally groaning. He knew that somehow Jane would make him forget that he was supposed to drive her home. He was surprised to find that she was still sitting relaxed in the front seat of Maura's car; however he failed to see the harassed look on the nearly boy standing on the edge of the crime scene. "Come on, Jane, I get to drive you home."

Jane got out of Maura's car and started to slowly stroll over to Frost's car while Maura jumped in and nearly sped away to headquarters. Jane just grinned; Frost just groaned. "She's got my luggage...we should go get them before you drop me off."

He knew she wouldn't leave then once she got there. "I'll have Maura drop 'em off later."

"She shouldn't have to go out of her way...she's tired so should go home."

"Then I will drop them off later." That was his real plan, however, once Jane got in the car, somehow she kept him distracted so he forgot what he was doing.

"So are you going to go back and play with you gun shot locator, toy-mi-bob thingy?"

This time Frost was nearly growling. "It's back with the tech guys. Cops kept showing up with guns drawn to various locations where cars backfired so they decided the code needed to be tweaked. But not before the armed cops frightened an elderly lady and her yappy dog."

Jane nearly snorted as she laughed. "Well at least her hair couldn't get any whiter then."

"Nah, I heard she had some odd orange tint." The laughter of both got louder, and before Frost knew it, he was pulling into his spot at headquarters. He started to reverse the car, but Jane had another idea.

"Look, Ma is coming into town anyway...I can just have her pick me and my bags up here before she goes to my place for Sunday dinner."

Frost thought about saying no, knowing that Jane just wanted to see what was going on with the case, but she was already pulling out her cell phone.

She typed a text message to her mother, as it was not even seven in the morning yet, and then got out of the car, leaving Frost no choice but to park his car.

"Okay, but you stay on desk as you will be starting tomorrow."

"No problem." Only because she knew she could bribe Korsak to see the notes on the other two cases.

Three hours later, Maura joined the group upstairs to deliver her preliminary report and saw for the first time that Jane was in the office. "The lieutenant is going to be pissed if he learns that you are in the office, Jane."

"It's a Sunday, he won't be in, so I'm okay." At the odd glances of her friends and colleagues, Jane added, "He's behind me, isn't he?"

"Yes HE is...it's a serial case for sure now, of course I'd be in," Lieutenant Cavanaugh's voice was quiet but deadly. "The question is what the hell are you doing here, Rizzoli?"

"I'm okayed to drive tomorrow, and I was with Maura..."

"Don't bring me into this."

Before she could get the guys in trouble too, she went on, "So I'm just waiting for Ma to pick me up to go back to my place and have dinner. You could come, the more the merrier...bring your notes even and work where it's more comfortable."

"I thought your Ma hated talk of work at the dinner table," Korsak joked and Jane just glared at him.

"Go home, Rizzoli, and don't let me see your ugly mug before noon tomorrow."

Sadly her Ma called then to say she was five minutes out. As she raised the phone and pushed the answer button, she answered her lieutenant, "Yes, sir...not you Ma...see you then." She was tempted to sit and pout for those five minutes, until she realized she still had five minutes to speed through the files.

* * *

The officers brought in the still living family and pointed out the two detectives to the wife before they turned and left.

Without talking about it, it was determined that Korsak would take the kids to chat, while Frost talked with the wife. As they approached the trio, Korsak grabbed a few dollars out of his wallet and said to the two kids, "Let's go raid the vending machines...I'd suggest the cafeteria, but the food is a bit scary, so I'm sure you mom an cook you something much better later."

"Dad usually cooks," a sullen looking fourteen year old boy stated.

Well this was going GREAT! Korsak thought as he led the two away.

"I'm sorry about you husband, Douglas, ma'am."

"Erica, and he preferred Doug, as I'm sure you can understand." She gave Frost an amused smile that much too quickly melted away into a sorrowful one.

After learning the few names of people who didn't seem to like the family, or the husband, the pair ended up on a little bit of small talk.

"Our daughter graduates high school this year...he was so proud."

Frost never mentioned religion much, but he did believe in an afterlife."I'm sure he still is."

Her gaze pierced his. "That's all well and good, detective, but how is she supposed to know now with the words, the caring smiles, and the gentle hugs that he can't give."

"You tell her for him...you hug her for him."

Silence hung in the air for a few moments. She gazed over at her children sitting and talking to the older gentlemen. "He fought with his father before school that day...he blames himself for those being the last words he said to him...what do I tell him?" A smaller pause this time before she quietly admitted, " I could see the hurt in his eyes when the police told us about Doug, but I was in shock and so froze rather than comforting my son..."

"So that is what you tell him...you are both human, and there are things you wish you could change...but your son knows you love him...just like his father knew Robert loved him. But sometimes we don't show it how we would prefer...we are all human."

The talk seemed to be over after that as the mother was left pondering how to help her children. Frost passed over his card and asked her to call if she thinks of anything new...he much preferred giving his number to beautiful women hoping for a date, rather than hoping for information leading to a suspect in now three murders.

* * *

AN: Next, possible break or two in the case and Jane back at work...Then, Maura thinks she probably should tell Jane before she learns that they were together.


	29. Chapter 29

DISCLAIMER: I do not own this show, the books, or these characters. I only borrow them.

**Chapter 29**

Monday Jane followed directions as stated. She came in at noon, left at four, and sat at her desk for most of those four hours. Not that she would tell anyone, but she was glad for the shortened days as her healing stomach protested being tensed to sit for even that long. Not much happened while she was at work. Frost and Korsak kept pouring over their notes, but they got no further on their case while she was in at least.

Tuesday Jane was still glad to be back at work, even if her partners and boss seemed to time her whenever she would walk away from her desk. She tried to put them off that by claiming she was leaving for 'female reasons,' but that just meant that they sent a female into the restroom after her rather than just barging in themselves as they did the previous day if she would take too long.

Bored of the paperwork that Korsak kept dumping on her desk, and that she put back on his with her own new paperwork just to piss him off, Jane started searching her computer for similar murders to the ones her colleagues had been working. She was hoping to find something, anything, that might help: similar murders in a nearby state, similar MO in the past, but she was not expecting what she found. A Boston Globe article mentioned the attempted rape of a college student, and the gruesome injuries that she sustained the previous week.

"Frost!, Korsak!" Jane's excited voice had both of her partners looking up from the notes on their desk and toward Jane who was pointing at her computer screen. Even the lieutenant stepped into his office doorway wondering what the commotion was about. She felt sorry feeling happy about someone injured in a local hospital, but it could be the break the case needed...and the girl could have been dead instead. "There's a 24 year old female, Beverly Stewart, in Massachusetts General Hospital. The Sexual Assault Unit in the Family Justice Division thought it was an attempted rape gone bad which is why we haven't heard about her as she was drugged with rohypnol and was partial naked when she was found, but she was found late on the evening before Mr. Clark was found in the alley, she was shot in the head, and missing a finger."

"Shit, and she survived?" Korsak couldn't help the brief glance toward Rizzoli's hands knowing that there was another female in the Boston area who would have hand injuries that would always remind them of their ordeal.

Luckily for Korsak, Jane was standing up and so missed the brief glance. She grabbed for her blazer and was about to follow the guys as they hurried to the elevators when a gruff voice stopped her in her tracks.

"Rizzoli, sit." the lieutenant said, pointed to Jane's desk.

She wanted to comment that she wasn't a dog, but now was not the time to tick him off. "I've been here for four hours now, so I should be leaving." She thought she had him because those were his own words, but she should have known better.

"I know you want to try for longer days, so how about a test run. At least one more hour, and don't move from that seat." Seeing Jane open her mouth to talk and knowing her tricks, he added, "Not even if you are going to piss yourself." He fought not to smile seeing Jane pout as she sat back down. Knowing how to make her day, and pout even worse, he said, "And then Dr. Zucker will be in house...you can have your first session then." He hurried into his office and shut the door before he couldn't help himself. A grin spread across his face and a deep belly laugh broke out. That made his day...hell, his year. He needed a good laugh after the last couple torturous months.

Jane put her elbows on her desk, and her head in her hands. Wondering how the possible good day could go down hill so quickly.

About fifteen minutes later the elevators dinged as it opened and Dr. Isles stepped out. She was looking impeccable as always in a navy dress that just caressed her knees as she walked. The three inch navy heels had Jane wondering how her friend could walk so elegantly. Her wavy hair was left down and flowing over her shoulders; it bounced a bit as she walked which reminded Jane even more how her friend always looked ready to walk the Paris runways. However, the manila folder in her hands showed all that Maura was here for more than just small talk. She looked around at the two empty desks, "Where are the detectives?"

Jane really wanted to point out that Maura finally asked a stupid question as one was right in front of her, but she knew what Maura was really asking 'Where are the active detectives?' "Frost and Korsak went off to Mass. Gen. as there is a patient with similar victimology. It's amazing and a bit scary that someone can be shot in the head and still survive."

"Not at all. Medical knowledge and quick responses have greatly improved. Even in 1848 a man, Phineas Gage, survived an accidental lobotomy. He worked in railroad construction and the blasting powder went off early causing the tamping rod to go through the frontal lobe. Even then, within two months he was walking and talking like normal; however the ventromedial region of the brain was damaged and so planning, moral judgment, and emotional control were gone. After the accident he was brash without a mental filter and violent at times, he would say what he thought without any of the usual compassion most people would employ."

Jane couldn't help joking, "So if his wife asked 'Do I look fat in this?' he would say 'Yes, Dear.'"

"Yes, but without the dear as emotions are attached to that word."

"That's ironic...he survives to die alone and destitute because of his injuries."

"No, what's ironic is the death of Charles Drew."

Jane just looked at Maura like she was crazy. Maura often forgot that most people had no clue what she was talking about as they didn't know enough trivia to be able to do well on Jeopordy. Hell, Jane would be lucky to remember to word her answers as a question.

Maura noticed the almost glazed look on Jane's face. She saw the look often, and knew it meant she needed to clarify her statements. "The doctor was a blood bank pioneer who suggested the use of plasma over blood at times of war because it could store for longer periods of time and was less likely to cause reactions from the transfusion over compatibility issues. He fell asleep at the wheel one night and was in a car accident, and, even with transfusions, he bled to death...hence ironic."

Jane rolled her eyes with the last comment. She understood how ironic once the story was told so she didn't need the final nearly 'duh' comment. For a moment she wondered why she was getting so annoyed with something that was just Maura being Maura, and then she had her answer. Dr. Zucker walked into the bull pen. It had nothing to do with her friend and everything to do with the man who walked into her lieutenant's office. She did not want to talk with him, but she knew she had no choice in the matter...at least not if she wanted to keep her job.

Maura saw the intense look of annoyance on Jane's face as her gaze followed the man's walk into the side office. She knew Jane hated talking about her emotions...to anyone really, but Maura was starting to see how it would be helpful to talk to someone about feelings as she was left with only Korsak or Bass to talk to about her feelings and loneliness regarding losing Frankie. It would have to be even worse for Jane losing her brother as they had known each other much longer. "He's not the enemy, Jane. Just talk to him." With that she walked back toward the elevator so she could retreat to her safe haven. Glad that Jane couldn't see the lone tear that trekked down her left cheek.

All too soon Jane was sitting in a small seldom used interview room with Dr. Zucker. She made sure to sit down first so that her back was to the one-way mirror. She knew that no one would sneak a peak at this meeting, but she felt better anyway not facing the mirror...yea, that was it, the mirror. She folded her arms even though she knew she shouldn't have as he now knew for sure she was on the defensive and closed-off. Silence hung in the air...she was not going to speak first.

Finally the psychologist asked a question, "How are you doing being back at work?"

So that's what they were wondering, how she was doing in the building where she was taken hostage. "I'm doing good. I can walk in the front door and past where I was shot no problem. I can even walk up the stairs and not flinch if that is what you are asking?" She couldn't help the venom that was lashed in her tone. "I see where...crap, what was her name?" She paused racking her brain for a name of a girl she had only talked to briefly, but who she promised to keep safe. Her vision focused in on that blood stained scene on the stair landing. Her voice went quieter, "I promised to keep her safe..." She fought the tears that wanted to spill down. She hated talking to Dr. Zucker. He saw her weak after Hoyt, and he would see her weak now if she couldn't get her emotions under control, but it was a lost cause at the next thought. "I promised to keep him safe." It was said even quieter than before.

* * *

AN: Sorry for the short update and the long wait...learned not to add to chapters later so it will be a little longer than 35 to Jane learning about Maura and Frankie since the chapters will probably be shorter for awhile. I promise the wait will be worth it...I need to have Maura work through wanting to tell Jane for awhile but not knowing how. Thanks for still reading if you are :D


	30. Chapter 30

DISCLAIMER: I do not own this show, the books, or these characters. I only borrow them.

**Chapter 30**

As Frost and Korsak walked down the brightly lit white hallways toward their destination, Korsak couldn't help mumbling the whole way that it was the farthest from the parking garage. And he was correct. The twelfth floor of the Blake building at Massachusetts General Hospital contained the Neuroscience Care Unit that currently housed Beverly Stewart, and her parents during visiting hours. Entering the room in the NCU, both Frost and Korsak were tossed back in time.

Korsak saw the bandaged right hand. He remembered seeing Jane in the hospital after Hoyt got to her. He still felt bad about that day...wondering if he could have been by her side to prevent what happened, wondering if she was going to be okay after the fact both emotionally and physically, wondering if her hands would work the same and if she would be able to even hold a pencil or button up a shirt, wondering if she was going to be able to be his partner again or if the injuries would prevent her from using her hands and so qualifying for shooting. He looked at the empty space where the right index finger should have been and so was reminded that this girl in front of him was not his injured partner but another survivor to a heinous criminal. Just one more girl with scars to remind them daily of the horror they went though...but also that they were survivors.

Frost saw the bandaged head. From the brief glance he had of the parents, he assumed that the victim's hair was a deep brunette like Jane's, which did nothing to help stop him from thinking about his partner laying in a similar bed less than two months ago. The machines beeping and the pale skin scared him. He worried that he would lose his partner. He joked to her about being paired with Korsak, but it was more than that...he feared losing her to death. Losing her as a partner if the injuries damaged her beyond healing and returning to work would be bad, but he could live with that. He wasn't sure about the other possibility. He wouldn't be able to live with that fact knowing he wasn't by his partner's side fighting tooth and nail with her when she was in danger. He was supposed to have her back, and all he had was a view of her front as the gun went off and he watched her face contort in pain. He looked again at the bandages on the head and hoped that Beverly would be able to heal as well as his partner seemed to be doing. They were both survivors and would become stronger for what all they went through...so he prayed fervently.

At similar times, the two partners turned their gaze from the victim on the bed to the two parents. The mother looked like she usually tried to dress as impeccably as Dr. Isles, but with worry over her daughter, a couple buttons on her shirt were skewed and her skirt was wrinkled were she kept grasping at the hem when she did not have either her husband's or daughter's hand to clutch. Her dark chocolate hair was pulled into a ponytail at the nape of her neck, but some medium length strands were falling out. A nearly empty box of tissues lay nearby her chair, and the partners could tell that the smeared mascara around her green eyes had not been fixed or cared about in awhile. The husband was now standing at his wife's side with a hand on her shoulder as if to hold her in place emotionally. He was wearing jeans and a cream colored polo shirt. His lighter salt and pepper hair was slightly messed from carding his fingers through his hair in worry over his daughter. He held out his right hand to shake the two detectives' hands as he introduced himself and his wife as Marten and Susan Stewart. "Thank you for coming and looking into what happened to our daughter."

Frost caught himself before he could say something stupid like 'it's our pleasure.' "I'm Detective Frost, and this is Detective Korsak," he said pointing over to his partner. He debated his next line but the parents needed to know, "with Boston Homicide."

With the word homicide, the look on the parents' faces changed. They stared first at the detectives and then at their daughter lying in the bed. Worry even more prevalent on their faces, but also a bit of gratitude that she wasn't dead, so fully in need of homicide detectives, even though they feared what else they might hear. Marten nearly collapsed back into his seat. "What is this about?"

"We've had similar victims as your daughter, only they haven't been so lucky." Frost almost kicked himself for that word.

"Lucky, LUCKY! How is this lucky?" Susan finally spoke up. She got up and walked over to her daughter's side. "She is going to school for art. She wants to illustrate children's books, and she loves to play the piano. This will kill her, even though someone didn't, which is what you are saying, right? And that is if she wakes up and is herself." A sob tore through the room at the realizations Susan just spelled out about her daughter's possible future.

"Ma'am, I'm truly sorry..." Frost would have gone on trying to apologize, but Marten walked over to try and calm his distraught wife down which would do more than he ever could at this point.

Korsak just looked over at Frost with a 'shit happens' look. After things settled down a bit Korsak decided to ask some pointed yet safer questions. "Where is she going to school?"

"She goes to Suffolk University. She is working on getting a Bachelors of Fine Arts in Illustration next year...she just started her senior year." Marten calmly gave the answer as he and his wife gazed through the window at Blossom Street. He was still rubbing his wife's back to help calm her down and so missed the looked the two detectives gave each other.

There was now another victim associated with Suffolk University. "Do you know if she was friends with a girl named Saleemah al-Sarif?" Korsak asked.

"No," the shaky answer came from the wife as she turned back around to face the pair of detectives again. "She didn't have many friends at school. She was always buried in her art. I would have remembered if she mentioned someone with a name like that as it's so unique."

They asked a few more basic questions before handing over their cards and asking that they be called if the parents thought of any information no matter how small. They wished their daughter well before leaving to stop briefly at Suffolk University and then heading back to the office.

The parents sat and waited for their daughter to wake up, and Beverly slept away in a coma like she didn't have a care in the world or so it seemed to those worrying about her.

* * *

Korsak was glad that Jane was nowhere to be seen when they got back to the office over two hours later. He knew that she was going to be a grump after not being able to go to the hospital especially after she found the lead. Not that it was as much of a lead as they were hoping for, even though they did have the university connection to go on now. They knew from the two majors: Illustration and Computer Science, it was unlikely that the two girls ever ran into each other in classes. Beverly wasn't doing computer illustrations where MAYBE they would have met in the computer labs.

Frost called Saleemah's cousin when they returned to the office, where he learned that he had never heard the name Beverly Stewart. Most of his cousin's friends had either been in the same area of study or Muslim or both. He again thanked the man and reminded him to call if he thought of anything before he ended the call how he was expecting.

More questions, but no answers came forth the rest of the day.

* * *

Another break came the next morning from Erin Volchko. She actually came out of her windowless cramped room S269, also known as the hair, fiber, and trace evidence lab. The criminalist had a winning smile on her face as she walked toward the bank of desks, and Jane wondered as she watched her coming closer if her brother would have gone for a mousey blond who lived in the labs and seldom came out for air. Today her pinched eyed like she was still still squinting into a microscope held a glint of amusement.

"So what do you have for us?" Korsak had to ask as the file was passed to Frost.

"I learned that the hairs found on Saleemah's body was an anagen hair from a Caucasoid male."

Jane just smiled knowing how Erin loved to stretch the answer out and make you work for it. "Are you going to explain or should I call up Dr. Isles for clarification."

Erin just chuckled, "No need for that. An anagen hair has an elongated root as it's in an active growth phase."

"Check, so the hair is growing. Thank you. Now we will watch our suspects closely...that would be worse than watching a pot boil," Korsak couldn't help grousing.

"And the Cuckold male part?" Frost asked.

Jane and Korsak erupted in laugher, which got louder at Frost's dumbfounded look. "Wouldn't that be a penis?" Korsak staged whispered crudely.

"Bet you know the term well with all those wives, huh, Korsak," Jane said.

That shut-up one of the laughing fools, "Low blow Jane, low blow."

Jane would have commented on how low if the pain in her side now allowed her to talk let alone laugh anymore. She was lucky to still be able to breath shallowly.

Erin smiled over at Frost, "_Caucasoid_ is the anthropological term for human beings from Europe originating from Indian subcontinents."

Jane knew she was still testing them. She wheezed out, "But you had enough DNA to determine all that and male..."

"Yea, so we are left with what? An eighth of the population as suspects?" Korsak complained.

"On a bad day for us yes, but on a bad day for your suspect he was in the system for petty larceny, Anand Gupta." Erin just smiled more broadly at Korsak.

"And you couldn't just tell us this?"

"What fun would there have been in that?"

As Erin started to walk away, Jane could have sworn she saw her wink at Frost who was still holding the file with the name of the new...well, only suspect. Was she hitting on Frost? She wouldn't be doing that if she had just lost Frankie as a boyfriend, would she? Jane had been so sure Frankie's girl had been Erin. She might have to rethink that.

* * *

Korsak and Frost pulled up to an old brownstone on Joy Street and got out of their vehicle. Korsak looked again at the address from the DMV print out as he started toward the door. "These old buildings really should have elevators."

"Then you'd just complain that they were a death trap or something," Frost joked back. The old man wasn't so bad once you started to get to understand him and his complaining.

"Probably," and with that he held his tongue, more to deal with the three flights of rickety stairs. When he got to door 403 and knocked, an Hispanic young man answered the door...definitely not who they were looking for. "Is there an Anand Gupta at this residence?" Korsak asked without flashing his badge yet.

"Yea... ANAND," the kid yelled into the other room and a gruff "What?" was heard nearly as loud. "Some coppers are looking for you."

So much for not flashing their badge, but luckily for them...and for Anand no running took place as he came to the door.

"Can I help you?"

_That was a pleasant change_ Korsak thought. "We were wondering if you could come down to the station and talk to us about Saleemah al-Sharif..."

"What about my girlfriend?" Anand asked.

"We have some questions about her murder..."

Anand nearly fell on the floor as he staggered backwards before he found a kitchen chair, "She's dead?...Who would hurt her?"

"That is what we are hoping you could help us with," Frost took over. Which was how the trio ended up in an interview room not twenty minutes later.

"Where were you Wednesday night, October 6th, between 8pm and midnight?" Korsak asked siting down on the uncomfortable metal chair.

"Yeah, my friends and I were watching a Resident Evil Marathon as we were _finally _going Friday to see Afterlife 3D..."he sobered up, "was that when Saleemah was..." he took a deep breath not able to say the word.

Frost pushed over a legal pad, "We'll need a list of names to verify where you were."

"Sure, no problem," and with that Anand started writing his friends' names down on the lined paper. "I really hope you catch whoever hurt my Leema. I really loved her."

"Why didn't we learn about you from her friends and family then?" Korsak wondered aloud.

"We were keeping it low key knowing the family wouldn't approve as she is Muslim and I'm Hindu...but we love...loved each other."

Frost thought he was able to switch tenses quickly, "Her cousin said she planned to dump whoever she was dating."

"She was saying that just to get him off our back. She thought he wouldn't watch her as closely if she said she wasn't dating anyone anymore."

"We found some of your hairs on her clothes...that is how we found you. Can you explain that?" Korsak was hoping to trip him up.

"I'm around her a lot as her boyfriend."

"Yes, but to have roots for DNA they had to have been pulled out..."

"Leema really likes to card her fingers through my hair, and sometimes she has to tug a bit if there is a tangle." Anand gave the answer without an hint of a lie or nervousness.

Anand looked and sounded truthful and sincere, but something about him just rubbed Frost wrong. He knew that Jane would be listening in, and maybe she would have an idea. Woman's intuition was often helpful in cases involving relationships, not that Frost would call it that to her... gut feeling, because if he pointed out Jane was a WOMEN he would be in pain for quite awhile.

* * *

AN: Jane learns about the relationship after her first case off desk so got another week story time at best and I need to finish up this case...but no worries at least I think the next chapter is one of the more fun and interesting ones to tide you over...or annoy you more :D


	31. Chapter 31

DISCLAIMER: I do not own this show, the books, or these characters. I only borrow them.

AN: If you get squeamish you might want to jump to Maura in her office...but if you watch CSI or others like it you should be ok...I need the details to make what happens more realistic but I tried not to be too over the top.

Btw thanks so much for those who reviewed during my very long break to keep me wanting to get back to this story. You guys are awesome!

**Chapter 31**

Beat cops were sent to the home of Beverly Leary by a worried daughter who hadn't heard from her mother in over a week which was far from normal. These house calls could lead to anything from learning that the 'victim' had been staying at her new beau's house to being chased off the premises by a feeble parent or grandparent wielding a purse. But they weren't expecting what they found, and the beat cop of over 20 years lost his dinner in the bushes outside the side door. That was when homicide was called in; Frost and Korsak especially after the brief details were relayed to the operator.

It was very late on Wednesday when Korsak and Frost got a call about a fourth murder victim. Frost knew from the get go that he was going to have issues with this scene. One cop already lost his dinner, and no one was joking about it as they usually did when Frost was ill which must mean that it was a nasty one.

The pair walked into the dark house and followed the light of their flashlights and the horrible smell through the house. The first room they walked through was a kitchen. Scanning the room briefly, Korsak noticed something that pointed toward what they knew they were going to find, "One of the knives seems to be missing," he said as he quickly shined his light on the block holding the set of kitchen knives sans the butcher knife. He didn't pause long over the fact knowing he would come back to it.

Frost was about five feet from the doors to the next rooms when he tripped over a couple small bowls and they went skidding across the floor.

"Here kitty, kitty," Korsak softly called.

"Don't go there. From what I hear, I hope the cat is long gone." Frost's hope was dashed when they followed the hallway and entered the master bedroom however.

In the middle of the bed lay Beverly, or who was assumed to be Beverly Leary. The elderly women was laying in her bed, the mattress under her was saturated with fluids including blood and those from decomp, and the smell was already getting to Barry. One difference came from the fact that her body had been decomposing longer than the others, and so bugs had started to feast on her as they got in the house in a rip in the open window screen. The few flies flying around the detectives faces let them know there would be more bugs around. But the bugs were not the only thing to have feasted on the victim's open wounds, thereby causing lots of damage to the face.

And there the cat sat by it's mistress. The flashlights caused the gruesome scene to take on an even more horror filled sensation. The cat's eyes seemed to glow green back at the two men, and the once pristine white cat was licking its front paws trying to get clean. The hair on its head and face stood up in brown spikes of dried blood. Beside the bed lay a pile of thrown up, half-masticated brain tissue.

Korsak mumbled to himself, "Guess kitty didn't like dinner," as Frost bolted for the bushes. While Frost was outside, Korsak looked closely at the light switch and noticed a blood smear. He signaled for a CSRU tech to come over and record it with luminol so that he could turn on the overhead lights and see what the murder scene really looked like.

Within an hour the scene looked a little different. The cat was gone as one CSRU tech had crated up the animal in order to take it back to the lab to get pictures and evidence off of the creature. The blood on the light switch had been recorded and so the room was now bathed in bright artificial light. With the light on, Korsak was able to see the evidence in the room which pointed at her murder being a serial like the other bodies the BPD had seen the previous week. There was a small pool of blood on the bed where the right hand might have rested at one time, before it was bound together with the left hand with a generic strip of duct tape. The ankles were similarly bound. On closer inspection of the hands, Korsak noticed that the right pinky finger of this victim was gone. There was a pillow on the side of the bed with a hole through it and blood splatter on one side and gun shot residue on the other. Korsak understood that the murderer had used the pillow as a way to silence the gun a bit and not to see the victim's face as the trigger was pulled. This idea was justified when he saw the victim's face closer up as he was able to see a few small feathers in the wound on her face. He was also able to see the teeth marks of the cat which made the wound much larger than would had been seen from just the gunshot wound.

Korsak noticed the missing butcher knife on the bedside table and he flagged down the CSRU tech who was taking pictures of the body, "Hey, Mike, can you take some pics and dust the knife for prints? Hopefully we can get lucky on something with this case finally."

"Sure thing, I'll be there in a sec." Mike finished up the angle he was on before he came over.

With the tech out of the way of the body, the on-call ME came over in order to take a liver temp reading as there was damage around the eyes so he thought it would be a better way to get an accurate reading over a vitreous potassium sample.

Granted, Korsak knew that Dr. Pike did like the more old school techniques, and the detective wondered if Maura would get annoyed with the doctor as she often did. He didn't say anything to the annoying Doc but just quickly finished up his work in silence.

* * *

Dr. Isles arrived at the morgue slightly before 8 am on Thursday morning. She was just about to sit down at her desk when her phone rang. "Isles."

"Hey Doc," the gruff and tired sounding voice of Detective Korsak came over the line, "I was wondering if you could look at a body for us that Dr. Pike brought in earlier."

Maura tried not to groan at the request as she knew the touchy doctor would get annoyed with someone encroaching on 'his' case. "Why do you want me to look at this body? What's the issue with Dr. Pike's staying on the case?"

"The victim has a gunshot wound to the head and is missing her right pinky finger..." Korsak didn't say more, he didn't need to as he knew the Doc would understand the need for the same pathologist to be on the case so that no piece of evidence tying this case to the others would be over looked.

"Understood. I'll let you know what I find out." She didn't wait to find out if Korsak wanted to say anything else before she hung up the phone and placed it in the pocket of the black dress pants she had chosen to wear that morning. She didn't want any superfluous information to influence her take on the case. She placed her purse in the bottom desk drawer, sighed as she dragged her fingers through her long curling hair, and resolved herself for another long grueling day. She took off the red blazer that she had on over a comfortable white silk shirt and placed it over the back of her office chair before she headed out of the door and down the hall.

She got ready for performing an autopsy as she usually did. Donning the paper garments to protect her clothing and shoes as her assistant went into the freezer in order to pull out the gurney needed. As the body was wheeled closer, Maura could smell the strong odor of decomp that wafted up around the body. She noticed Yoshima place a small folder on the edge of the nearby metal table, but again Dr. Isles ignored the notes that were taken at the scene of the crime as she wanted the body solely to tell the story about what happened to her. She got the external exam forms ready to start taking notes and then peeled back the sheet covering the woman's face. She paused seeing the damage to the face due to the bullet, and it took her a moment to see the teeth marks around the wound, and her brain quickly processed the face that some animal had feasted on the open wound of the dead woman. Maura blanched as the facts and the smells overwhelmed her like never before and before she knew it she dropped the wooden clipboard with the forms and bolted to the nearest sink. She heard the sound of the clipboard hitting the floor right as she started to empty her stomach into the metal sink.

She turned on the water and watched as the mess was rinsed down the sink. Her mind was wandering from various thought from wondering why this case caused her to be ill, to thinking that her stomach content weren't the worse things to be washed down the sink: blood, bits of tissues on the instruments, and stomach contents...well of dead people, and very frequently Frost. She had not been feeling the best the last few weeks actually, and for a brief moment she wondered if she had come down with some sickness. Her mind took in all of the facts in her case, and she was sent reeling as she realized what was probably going on. She was used to the sights and smells of the autopsy room and decomposing bodies. So getting sick now told her more then peeing on any stick could that something was not normal She gripped the side of the sink harder to keep herself from falling to the floor as the truth pounded down on her. She tried to think on what had happened...okay she knew HOW it happened but that wasn't helping her mood any. She hadn't been eating well, and when she did she often felt ill lately. She had attributed that fact at first to her grief over losing Frankie, and then to the fact that food tasted odd after she had the case in the burned out apartment. She had been tired recently, but she attributed that fact to the issue of not sleeping well, and pushing herself harder at times to fill the weekends and quiet times because of Frankie being gone. Her emotions had been all out of whack because of the hostage situation and then losing Frankie, so she didn't think anything wrong about her fluctuating emotions. She had even written off the tenderness in her breasts as due to the air turning colder with the changing seasons. She tried to think back to when she had her last period, and she realized it had been well over two months. She never thought anything odd about this as her period was never 'normal,' and with her age, she often rationalized the weeks between her periods that she might be going through early menopause.

She whirled around quickly and came face-to-face with her worried assistant. She didn't want to face the truth, or people, and so she hurried to the woman's restroom down the hall and locked herself in a stall just in case her stomach still decided to revolt on her. She lowered herself to the tiled floor as she pondered how this could have happened. She was on the pill, and even though she knew that they weren't fool proof, they had a pretty good probability of making sure that this unplanned moment never occurred. As she was thinking about birth-control pill efficiency, she had an oh-shit realization. She remembered when she had bronchitis after the Fourth of July celebrations, and the fact that she wrote out a prescription for antibiotics. She mentally beat herself up as being a doctor she should have remembered that antibiotics effected the ability of birth-control pills to work as they should in a small percentage of women, and so another form of protection should be used after the fact. Once again she was finding herself regretting the fact that she often was in the small percentage of people in various situations. Having a time frame in mind she started to try and piece together when exactly it might have occurred, but before she could get too far in remembering the past, she heard someone entering the restroom.

"Dr. Isles, are you okay? Yoshima mentioned that you weren't feeling well." The voice of the ME department's secretary, Louise, filtered through the closed stall.

Maura forced herself to stand up and smoothed down the imaginary wrinkles on the paper clothing she was still wearing over her outfit. Yoshima must have informed their secretary to come in and check on the doctor. They took away any shred of privacy that the dead had on a regular basis, but he would not intrude on her privacy or any other female that might be in this room. "I'm better, thank you for checking on me." She held her breath as she heard the secretary breathe out a worried sigh before exiting the small room. Maura stepped out of the stall and glanced at her reflection in the mirror over the two porcelain sinks. She removed the paper gowns and shoe covers and placed them in the restroom trashcan as they were not bloodied as she hadn't had time to start the autopsy before she was sent reeling toward the sink. She splashed water on her pale face and placed her poised mask back on her face before she squared her shoulders and exited the room, hoping that if she ran into anyone in the hallway that they wouldn't notice anything out of ordinary.

She walked down the hall and stopped into the luckily empty autopsy suite in order to grab what she needed before quickly walking down the rest of the way into her office. She locked the door behind her and went and all but collapsed in the chair behind her desk as she placed the needle, blood collection vial with a reddish top, label, and a rubber tourniquet on the desk. She knew that it would take longer to get the test results back over a urine test, but she could cover up what she was looking for better by asking for various results: CBC, tox, and the other usual test performed on those on her table...and the added test for the hormone level of human chorionic gonadotropin, the quantitative blood test that measured the concentration of hCG hormone in the blood. The amount of the hormone could help pinpoint more accurately than her memory might about how far along she might be. Sadly it wasn't all that uncommon of checking for pregnancy at an autopsy in order to see if the homicide count was one or more.

She rolled up her left sleeve and worked on tying the tourniquet around her upper arm in order to let the median cubital vein stand out. She had to use her right hand and teeth to get the tourniquet tied tightly. She readied the needle and quickly pushed it through her skin and into the correct vein. She watched as the blood started to slowly trickle into the vial. She wiggled her fingers in order to let the blood flow a little quicker as she couldn't figure out how to get the tourniquet off of her arm as her right hand was busy holding the needle in place. Finally she collected enough blood in the vial, and so she removed the needle and tourniquet from her arm.

Maura filled out the label on the vial with the name 'Jane Doe' and a fictitious case number with a fine point black permanent marker that was in her desk drawer. She left her office and walked down the hallway to the toxicology lab. She handed the vial over to newer lab tech. The girl in the white coat seemed a bit worried seeing Dr. Isles standing over her as most of the samples were brought in by the assistants. "I need the listed blood work as soon as possible, Ms. Copper."

"Yes, Dr. Isles," the girl swallowed as she took the vial.

Maura was hoping that the newer intern would be quick, efficient, and quiet about the results as she was still in the 'get the job done' faze rather than the 'question why protocols are not being performed to the letter' stage. Plus Maura hoped that still being new she wouldn't yet be into the gossiping that went on in the office. She groaned thinking about the rumor mill though as she left the lab. She wondered if the story of her being ill in the morgue had traveled the building yet. She was sure it would be big news to learn that the Chief Medical Examiner for the BPD threw up after seeing a dead body.

She wandered back down the hall and got a washcloth from the pile of towels that she kept in her office closet in order to clean up after a messy autopsy. She got it wet from the nearby restroom and then went back into her office and lowered herself onto her couch. She placed the wet rag over her face in order to try and hide from the world and the truth of the day with that small bit of cloth.

Was she really so bad with the living that she couldn't even diagnose herself. It took a dead body to show her the truth...she always did know how to listen and talk for them much more than for the living. She thought to herself 'What do I know about babies and kids?' Well okay, she knew a lot of stuff...like when the scalp sutures or the ends of the long bones fused. She was able to predict about how formed the fetus already was inside of her. She even knew all the changes that would happen to a body during puberty. But she didn't know anything that wasn't in her textbooks. She also didn't know what Frankie would have thought about this new development. Would he have been shocked, scared, or pleased with the idea of a child?

* * *

Jane arrived to work around 9:30 in the morning. The one good thing about still being on restrictive duty was that she could sleep in a bit in the morning if she felt like it. This morning she was happy to just lie in bed stroking her dog's head while she watched her legs run as she slept. They finally got up and went for a slow, and, in Jane's case, a bit painful, walk.

Jane walked into the cafeteria in the precinct in order to order a coffee as she didn't feel like making a pot this morning just to get one or two cups out of it before she came into work. As she was in line, she heard a couple of men from a nearby table talking.

"Hey, Harold, did you hear the news from the morgue?"

Jane perked up wondering what she might have missed this morning.

Before Harold could reply the other man went on, "The Queen of the Dead totally lost it when she saw a dead body today and threw up."

"No way."

"Honest. I heard it from a guy who heard it from the medical intern who was in the morgue."

Jane's attention was pulled back to the line when a gruff voice asked her, "Whacha want?"

"Ah, never mind." She was pissed off at the man for using the annoying moniker for her friend, and she was ticked off at the intern for spreading gossip at work, but, more than anything, she was worried about her friend. She stepped out of line and hurried over to the elevator in order to go downstairs and check on Maura.

She rode the elevator down to the floor with the morgue, walked down the hall to Dr. Isles' office, knocked lightly at the same time as she opened the door to stick her head in and look for her friend. Seeing Maura laying down on her couch with a washcloth over her face in the darkened room, Jane realized that Maura must really be feeling poorly.

Jane stepped toward couch and looked around the room. Nothing seemed out of place or new right off the bat. She saw the jacket on the back of Maura's desk chair, and, while she was looking toward the desk, she noticed a few odd objects on the edge of the desk and walked closer to check them out. She was shocked with what she saw: a tourniquet and needle. For a moment Jane wondered if Maura might have started taking something. She couldn't really see it as her friend on a daily basis saw what drugs and alcohol abuse did to the body. But in her profession, Jane knew that people would do some stupid stuff after being in horrible situations or when dealing with death...and they were both dealing with a lot lately. Heck, Jane hid in bed for a week before her Ma forced her up. She took a deep breath and promised to keep an eye on Maura to see if she needed a swift kick in the ass too.

Maura heard the knock on the door, and that someone came in. Not seeing who it was, she assumed that it was her secretary. "Can you mark me down as taking the rest of the day for a sick day...I'm just waiting to feel a little better before I drive myself home." She was expecting to hear an 'Okay,' and hear the person leaving her office. She was not expecting someone to pull the cloth away from her face.

Jane heard the quiet voice of her friend and could tell from the tone that she really wasn't feeling so great. Her words about leaving for the day just solidified that idea as the last time Dr. Isles was sick and at the office, Jane had to all but drag her sorry ass home. She pulled the wet cloth off of her friend's pale face, "I can take you." Just one more benefit of not having set hours at the office this week.

It took Maura a moment for her thoughts to catch up with the face and words that she sensed. 'Oh, God,' she thought seeing Jane in front of her. What the heck was she supposed to do with her best friend...and soon to be aunt.


	32. Chapter 32

DISCLAIMER: I do not own this show, the books, or these characters. I only borrow them.

**Chapter 32**

Maura gazed up at Jane with wide eyes. She could only remember one other time when she was this petrified in front of her best friend.

* * *

~10 weeks into dating~

Jane and Maura were sitting across from each other at the Dirty Robber enjoying a nice leisurely lunch today as yesterday they had solved a major case. After a morning of paperwork, Jane decided that the pair needed a treat. Their food had been placed in front of them about five minutes before, and so the only sound at the table was that of Maura's silverware hitting the place between bites of her chef salad. Jane, on the other hand, needed no silverware for her big burger and fries.

Frankie walked into the Dirty Robber hoping to grab a quick lunch away from the usual cafeteria fare. His face lit up as he saw two of his favorite women in the world sitting in a nearby booth. He decided to go over and talk to the pair.

Jane was sitting so that she could watch the door. Being a cop, she hated the idea of being out of the line of sight of doors so that someone could sneak up on her. Therefore she saw him before Maura could, and she groaned and dropped the french fry that was slathered with ketchup back to the plate. "What do you want?" Her voice was a cross between annoyed and a childish whine.

Maura was curious about who could garner such a reaction from the usually poised and well-spoken Detective until she was nudged over in the booth so the the new person could sit down. She took a large drink of her water with lemon in order to block the wide smile that wanted to break out on her face when she saw Frankie.

Frankie loved that the girls sat across from each other so that he was able to slide in beside his girl and get comfortable against her side without his sister even knowing what he was doing as she just assumed it was so that he could talk to her better. He reached over to grab one of Jane's fries with his right hand while his left hand reached under the table and caressed a bare knee as Maura was wearing a gorgeous red and white dress dress today. He tried not to laugh as first his right hand was smacked away from the plate of greasy fries, and soon after his left hand was lifted gently off of the silken knee.

"I don't think so buddy, nothing comes free in life," Jane stated.

Frankie knew where this was going as he had been having similar conversations with his family for the past few weeks, ever since he let slip at a family dinner that he was serious about a girl. All the family could get from him was that she was gorgeous, smart, and that they worked fairly close so they wanted to try to see how they worked together both personally and at work before they added a new dynamic into the mix. But Jane being Jane couldn't help trying to interrogate him whenever she got the chance, "And what do you want in exchange for your cold fries?" Before his sister could answer, the waitress came by and took his order. He ordered a grilled cheese, onion rings, and a diet coke. He could see out of the corner of his eyes that Dr. Isles was dying to say something about his food choices. She poked him in the thigh instead, and now it was him taking a drink of the diet coke that was just delivered in order to hide the wide goofy smile that was about to shine and would tell Jane all she wanted to know.

"So...you mentioned a couple Sunday's ago that you were serious about a girl from work..." Jane started.

Luckily Jane was gazing intently at Frankie in order to not miss anything on his face that she missed the quick flash of panic on Maura's face before she placed on her professional mask that she used when she needed to go to court and give her expert testimony. She again poked Frankie in the thigh. This time a bit harder than before.

Frankie just grabbed hold of the attacking hand and gently grasped her hand to let Maura know that everything was fine. "Yea, what of it?" He just smiled at the exasperated look on his sister's face.

The soggy fries that were once being fought over now lay forgotten. Now it was solely about getting information out of her brother. "How about a hint?"

"I think you knowing that we work together is enough of a hint."

"Is it Erin?" Jane could see the women who worked in the hair and fibers lab as fitting the bill of being pretty, smart, and working near her brother.

"That would be more than a hint," her brother chuckled.

Jane just stared at the twinkling in her brothers eyes. Crap. She had lived with him enough to know that twinkle had more to do with him playing with her her than the fact that she had spoken the name of the love-of-his-life...not that he'd had a love-of-his-life before to really get a feel for what that might be, but it was fun to pick on him for. Her brain processed quickly to think about who else could fit the description, "How about Susie Chang?" Jane had a lot of respect for the senior criminologist who interacted more with Dr. Isles.

"Nope."

She was running out of name who were in the right age range. She knew Maura was in a relationship so it couldn't be her, not that she would have minded if her brother and her best friend got together. "Maura," The waitress came and placed the food in front of Frankie and so Jane missed the fact that the twinkle in his eyes got a bit brighter and the edges of his lips curled up in a knowing grin before he could school his face when he heard his girls name being stated. As Jane was still trying to see Frankie through the angled body of the waitress, she failed to see the panicked look on Maura's face when she thought that Jane might have guessed her name in the 'Guess Who Frankie's Dating?' game. "So where is a good pressure point to poke in order to make him talk?"

Maura halfheartedly chuckled as her heartbeat returned to normal and was glad that was the question Jane asked her rather than if she knew who Frankie was dating. She didn't look forward to passing out in front of the pair.

Frankie just laughed and grabbed the largest onion ring on the plate. "Much better than your crappy fries anyway," and he took a big bite.

* * *

Maura felt her heartbeat slowly returning to normal as she stared up at her best friend. She was starting to regret not telling her back when she was panicked at the Dirty Robber about her and Frankie. She might have been in Jane's proverbial doghouse for awhile, but they would have had a small window of time when they could have celebrated life and relationships together while they had the chance. Now she knew she was going to have to tell the Rizzolis anyway, sooner rather than later, about her relationship with their son or brother as the case may be, and the longer she waitied, she was just digging a deeper grave. She nearly sneered at the fitting metaphor.

Jane was worried about the silence from her friend. "I heard you weren't feeling well, so I came to take you home."

"Don't you have work to do?" Maura asked. She wasn't sure if she'd be able to handle being around Jane for a long time right now.

"Not really...it's desk duty. I'm pushing papers. Yesterday I thought my eyes were going to get stuck cross." Jane made both of her point in toward her nose.

"Strabismus. It's when the eye muscles don't work correctly so that the eyes can't both focus at the same place at the same time. Yours would be classified as esotropia as your eyes are turned inward. The condition is often genetic can develop after a stroke or severe trauma to the head."

Before Dr. Isles could say anything else about the condition, Jane interjected. "I wanted to bang my head on the desk all afternoon yesterday. Does that count?" At Maura's pale glare she added, "I guess not. Okay, come on, up and at 'em." She pulled Maura into a seated position and worried at the look on the still much too pale face. "You're not going to hurl again, are you?"

Maura looked up and pushed the golden brown hair behind her ear that had fallen in front of her face. "No, just give me a minute."

"Good." Another thought came to Jane and she chuckled. "Be glad that Korsak and Frost are out looking for more evidence. Frost would love to know that he's not the only one tossing his cookies over the dead." Her laugh got even louder at the confused look on Maura's face.

"I didn't have have cookies, Jane. It's not a healthy breakfast choice."

"It's an expression, Maura." After that the silence reigned for a good ten minutes until Jane finally spoke up, "So...need a ride home?"

"Sure." Maura wished to say so much more, but she didn't know how to yet. She hoped a good night's sleep might help her frazzled thought and feeling come to an understanding of what to say and do.

* * *

Jane walked back into the BPD headquarters slightly after noon due to taking Maura home and grabbing a nice lunch before she went back to work for the afternoon. She was hoping that she could get some good information from Frost and Korsak about the interesting serial case they were still working on; however, one of her least favorite things happened when she stepped up to her desk.

"RIZZOLI!"

Shit! She just walked in the door, and she was still on partial days so it's not like Lieutenant Cavanaugh could be annoyed with her for being late or anything.

"Yes, sir?"

"Get in here, and shut the door."

Jane noticed that the blinds were already drawn. This definitely couldn't be good. She wanted to start out like she often did with her Ma, with the 'I didn't do it' defense, but she couldn't even think of what to say she didn't do. Jane watched him nervously tap the pen on the desk in front of him a few times and wished he would just talk already; however, once he did, she really wished that he would have remained silent.

"It's about Hoyt."

Oh God! From the serious look on his face, she could tell it wasn't to tell her good news, like he dropped down dead in his cell. For a moment, Jane wondered if the stomach bug that Maura mentioned having on the way home was catching as her stomach was doing cartwheels. Maybe the nice lunch she had on the way back to the office wasn't a good idea. "Sir?" She couldn't think about what else to say or ask.

"He had his lawyers petition to get him out of solitary. He is citing police brutality."

"How so? When?"

Cavanaugh took a deep breath and looked at his detective. He knew she was not going to take this well. "All of it in relations to you, and with the police department as a whole since he hurt one of our own" At the shocked look in Jane's eyes he went on. "He mentioned that at the...um, first time you both met he...," the Lieutenant glanced at the paperwork in front of him to make sure he had the wording correct, even though he was fairly sure he wouldn't forget it as Hoyt and his lawyers were slimy bastards, "'feared for his life' as you were in plain clothes and you never mentioned you were the police."

"What?" Jane wondered how Hoyt can claim fear when all of his emotions are dead and affected. Her mind flashed back to that musty, dark basement, and the fear that she felt when she was laying on the floor with Hoyt poised over her with that first scalpel. "So skewing my hands and pinning me to a basement floor was what? Self-defense. That's a load of crap," Jane quickly realized that she was yelling and being a bit disrespectful and so she added a quick, "sir."

"He mentioned he was worried when someone broke into the place he was staying."

"Yea, the place that he was breaking and entering in. Not to mention was in the process of killing someone in, and his trophies of other kills were on a nearby shelf." Jane pointed off to the side as if she could still see those jars that had nearly made her as green as Frost. "How is he spinning that?"Jane didn't even bring up the fact that Hoyt had made Catherine Cordell scream so that Rizzoli heard it and come running to the rescue, and him waiting to hit her over the head with a two-by-four when she stupidly put her gun down so that she could check on Cordell.

"He's not fighting the fact that he deserves to be in jail for murder, just trying to mitigate anything dealing with you. He's then suggesting that the police and techs railroaded him to make his crimes look worse than they were because of him attacking you."

"And people are buying that?"

"It comes at bad timing since the department is already under a magnifying glass about cops not acting above board so yea...some are."

"Shit!" Jane was wondering who the bigger asshole was. Marino was for taking her brother and running all cops names through the mud, or Hoyt for his torture and terrorizing of women. _This is bullshit! _Jane dragged her finger halfway through her long hair before she had to give up as she reached a tangle. She sounded tired when she asked, "And what does he say about his prison break?"

"He's saying that he felt that you were the only officer that he could trust in order to apprehend the Apprentice, and if anyone clued him in he would just uproot and disappear to another location."

"That is ironic considering he supposedly was scared of me," Jane ruefully chuckled. "Plus why couldn't he have told me what he knew about the case when Frost and I went to the prison in order to talk to him? And why would he care about stopping a man that he trained?"

"He mentioned that he didn't know if he could trust the guards, so he needed to talk to you in person. Plus that he didn't train the Apprentice...he learned based on articles written on his cases."

"If that was the case, he didn't need to kill the doctors and nurses. How can people buy this crap?"

"He said he needed to get out of the hospital quickly and easily and it was a few lives for the many that he knew the Apprentice would take if he wasn't caught soon. Plus he knew that it would be a good way to get your attention."

Jane remembered the video where Hoyt lightly sliced into his palm with a scalpel as a message to her. "And tazing me in the ME van?"

"A way to get you in position to take out the Apprentice."

"Of course." Jane couldn't believe the stupidity of people if anyone actually was going to believe even an ounce of this drivel. This was just another way of Hoyt playing with his latest toy, and Jane hated it. Hated that there wasn't really anything she could do to fight back. "And about when he had Lola come after me and Frankie?"

"He said he had nothing to do with what Lola did, but he did bring up the fact that you barged into the interrogation room and roughed him up a bit." He bit his tongue to keep from telling her that he told her to keep herself away from Hoyt. He could tell from the look on Jane's face that she wasn't faring very well.

Jane closed her eyes. The day couldn't get worse. "This is ridiculous."

The lieutenant couldn't help but agree, and he thought of one more thing that would send his detective's mood spiraling down. "Oh, and Rizzoli," he went on when he had her eyes, "Dr. Zucker will be in the office within two hours. See him," he barked out.

Jane could tell that was not a request. "Yes, sir. Is that all." At his nod, she got up and walked out of the small office. She should have known that the day could always get worse...soon she would be dealing with one of her other least favorite things to do at work.

* * *

AN: Just assume it's Hoyt playing with Jane again...plus I need to figure out how to break him out of jail eventually and he's already broken out from solitary so I didn't want to repeat that.

Thanks so much for the great reviews. You make my day! Probably won't get a chapter out next week as life is going to be 'fun' for the next week.


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